The Ducklings Strike Back
by SkyKissed
Summary: The ducklings were tired of falling prey to the endless arguements of their superiors, so with Wilson, they came up with a plan to stop it.Namely, get them together. Unfortunately, a few unforeseen complications arose. Figures. Huddy.
1. Chapter 1 The Conspiritors Arise

Sky: Hey all! This is my first House story so hopefully it won't be to terribly bad. This is the first chapter so it will hardlybe the best and is sort of on the short side, so stick with me but it'll get better, I promise. And as a token to ya'll I've hired House and Cuddy as my disclaimer peoples.

Cuddy: ...?

House: This is stupid. The ducklings would never conspire against me.

Cuddy: Awe, don't fell bad. I'D conspire against you.

House: (nastily) How sweet of you...

Sky: Um...maybe I should've used Chase and Cameron...anyway I'd don't own House or any of it's characters...Fox does. So leave me alone.

**Chapter 1: The Conspirators Arise**

"Nice try, House. Clinic duty. Now."

The epitome of divine loveliness strode gracefully down the hall, her lightly curled raven hair riding with practiced ease against her slender shoulders. There was in fact, such an ethereal grace in her step one would have thought she was gliding rather than walking on those ridiculously elevated stiletto's. Indeed, there were none half so lovely as Lisa Cuddy in her own hospital and none had dared challenge her for the title of reigning lady. Even as she passed, doctors, male nurses and even patients paused in their labors to admire her perfectly crafted, shapely figure only able to dream and stand in awe of such a wondrous creature.

Of course the one on her heels was hardly party to the majority of drooling males and had absolutely no problem terrorizing his superior. In a way, he had more power of her than she had over him, and, he was not discrete in exorcising said power.

But clinic duty...that was out of his league. There was no use attempting to escape the slavering jaws of that thrice cursed, abysmally white wing of the hospitable for poor House. Cuddy saw to that. Cuddy took time out of her day to make sure of that. And so, while to others she would appear angel, he knew her for what she truly was...the devil incarnate. Yes a devil. And reasoning with him was quite foolish for more reasons than any would dare state, lest they anger him yet again.

"Now wait one minute!" Despite his loud and somewhat disquieting protests, she walked onward without sign of stopping, no reservation in her steps; that irritated House. _Everyone_ listened to him! "Get back her you succubus!" No stopping. The criple threw his arms tiredly up in the air before stalking off after her once again.

Chase glanced at his watch. 12:30. They had started their monotonous routine early today. Surprise there...

Yes, some things were constant for the ducklings. House being a complete jerk to them, House insulting them, their lack of anything resembling a social life and perhaps the questionable digestibility of the cafeteria food, but if there was one thing more concrete than any other it was, quite sadly really considering their constant denial, House and Cuddy. Of course, this also tended to be the most blatantly annoying of any of the above listed problems for one blatantly obvious reason...

_They. Wouldn't. Stop. Flirting._

Worst off, neither would lower themselves even a bit from their divine pedestals of godly medical abilities to admit that they were doing such. Sometimes they pretended they didn't even know what was going on, Cuddy especially. And that was more annoying still. And was the constant source of their problems.

Cuddy would drop by with a ridiculous case (one would believe she spent the majority of her time sifting through ALL the cases just to find a retarded one for House as that kept him the hospital longer, a theory the ducklings had just recently devised after another night of testing patients for rare and otherwise unheard of diseases) just so she could drop on by House's office and argue with the irritable M.D. And that would have been fine, and unsuspicious but...

She did it every day.

And when she wasn't working (a rare thing) and was sitting alone at home, the ducklings were quite sure she was searching for another case to plague House with so she could stop by yet again and have her cleavage complimented. Again. And again, and again...

It was an endless process. Because at one time or another, House was going to throw the case to them and demand they run some test, or all the tests on the patients, they would run the tests, come out looking like idiots and then House would run off and bug Cuddy yet again...in her enclosed office. With closed blinds. Which was another chief source of gossip. And more annoyance.

So in a way, today was like any other day. Chase and Cameron had just run the tests once again and the three were simply sitting around the table, waiting for House to imminently walk in and insult their intelligence. Whether he took some lewd form of pleasure in it or used it as an excuse to spy on Cuddy was up for discussion but Wilson believed it was a mix of both. And to protect his young friends, he to was there waiting for his irritable old friend. Or so it would seem.

On the surface they looked no different, simply sipping their coffee's innocently waiting for their daily beating. But oh, was it different. Today was the day they put their superiors charade to a miserable, embarrassing end. The day when they were exposed for what they truly were...

Today was the day the conspirators rose up from the shadows...

And exposed House and Cuddy.

Revenge would be sweet indeed.

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Sky: Well there was chapter one. It'll get better. Anyway, review and tell me what you think or just review. Push the purple button...it's good for you. 


	2. Chapter 2: Team Organized Chaos

Sky: Wow, thank you all for reviewing, it's very encouraging! As promised, here is the next chapter, longer and better!

Cuddy: Sky does not own House or me or any of the characters in the series. Which is something of a comfort judging by the story...

Sky:(glaring) You are so lucky your my favorite character...

House: SECOND FAVORITE! Cuddles hasn't been able to usurp my rule yet!

**Chapter 2: Team Organized Chaos**

Dubious was the word that came to mind. Dubious.

House was not a fan of dubious for obvious reasons, the senior one being that people tended to get a lot more whiny when stuff like that happened. And it was always related in someway to the ducklings, this dubious vibe because either A) Foreman killed someone and was spiralling into a state of teenage angst, B) Chase killed someone and fell into a teenage angst, or C) the most horrifying of them all, dubious vibes tended to make Cameron fall madly in love with him. And that was disturbing. And unpleasent. And just generally bad.

This morning however there were none of these tell tale signs lingering evilly beneath their snow white over coats. But the vibe remained in full force. Creepier still, they seemed to be working well together( a rare thing really as they were normally far more interesting in ripping each other to bloody ribbons than speaking), chatting merrily over the table about something or other, even occasionally busting into a burst of unmerited laughter, which would cause them to shoot an even grin his direction, other than this they seemed otherwise unharmed. Perhaps he wouldn't even have been suspicious had it not been for one thing...

Wilson. Yes his old friend seldom came to visit unless of course House was embarking on something highly illegal or was killing someone...both things that tended to happen often now a days. Still, as there was nothing wrong at the moment, he should have been doing clinic duty or have been playing at being Cuddy's most favorite pet doctor. Something was up to make him be here and the chances of that being good were, well...not good.

House's eyes narrowed as he stared over the top of his cane.

One word came to mind and it rang resoundingly true upon his lips.

"Conspiracy."

House rose rather shakily and strode off down the halls, his cane clicking irritably against the cool, ornate tile of the floor. There was only one woman he could manage to trust with this knowledge...

Lisa Cuddy shuffled through the rather sizable stack of papers she had spent the entirety of the morning working on and set them neatly on the "outgoing" section of her desk. Gently massaging out the minor cramps in her delicate hands, she scanned her wrist watch for the time. 1:15, how good. House should be dropping by any minute. Out of habit she grabbed a stack of blank sheets of paper and her pen, scattering them in an organized manner about the expanse of her desk to give the illusion that she was laboring precariously over an impossible task.

Right on time, House burst in through the door, nurses and even her newest assistant visibly cringing as he once again strolled forth into the lion's den. No one even bothered asking why he took the time out of his day to brave the danger, they just simply assumed that he enjoyed teasing Cuddy rather shamelessly and, as this time was right after lunch, that the lioness would be to full to wish to devour him, else he would have been lunch a long, long time ago.

Cuddy glanced up from the work she was pretending to do. Her visitor was looking edgy and irritated, but hey, what else was new? House was _always _edgy and irritated no matter what the occasion.

Without pretense, he burst into his story staring at his cane rather than at her. "The ducklings, are scheming against me, it seems."

She choked on the drink of water she had been taking, resulting in a mixture of coughs and giggles. This only seemed to put her most prized doctor in an even fouler mood than ever, a scowl playing across his sharp face. Recovering with enviable grace, she let her grin show, "What did you just say?"

"I said," he snapped," that the ducklings were plotting against me!"

"No," she corrected with mock-sweetness. "You said they were conspiring against you."

"And maybe if you had been listening during English 101 instead of staring in awe at my rock hard bod," she choked again, but this time House simply assumed it was on her tongue. "You'd have realized those words are little things we educated folk like to call synonyms. Now are you gonna talk to them or not?" 

She massaged her temple with a forefinger, trying to ease the migraine that was threatening to set in the midst of her employee's lunacy. "So, let me get this straight, you want _me_," she pointed to herself. "To go talk to _your _underlings, and tell them to stop plotting, something they may or may not be doing at all? That sound about right?"

"Oh Cuddles...they most certainly _are_ plotting. But other than that I'd say you got it about right...for once."

Cuddy let out a long, exasperated breath. God, the nonsense she went through for this brilliant idiot! She had never really been one for silly little things like oxy-morons but that one seemed to fit him perfectly. Running one slender hand tiredly through her hair, she rose, not missing how House's eyes shamelessly roved down the length of her figure as she moved. After more than three years of working with him, it had become common place to the point where she hardly even noticed that he was gawking at her. Somewhere along the line she had even come to the conclusion that it was his way to express his acceptance and appreciation of her...or at least certain parts of her.

Crossing the remaining distance, she set one hand firmly on the "cripples" shoulder, taking lewd pleasure in how the muscles inadvertently tightened her touch. Good, despite all the vaunted power he had over her she could still control him were it counted. Pursing her lips she continued, purposely pitching her voice so it rang with the slightest tinge of pity and perhaps a tad of annoyance. House had gotten used to _that _tone too. It literally meant that he better bug off or she was gonna sentence his sorry butt to clinic duty till doomsday did come. "House, I want you and your paranoia out of my office, right now."

He didn't move this time though. Great. The day she needed him to be mortally afraid of her was the one he chose to finally step up and call her bluff. Typical. He made that damn boyish pout that always forced her to give into his wishes, ice blue eyes growing artificially glassy, staring sadly back into her matching ones, begging her, pleading her so artfully that she step in his behalf. Deep down she knew, she _knew_, it was all just a masterful ploy to get her over on his side but...telling him no when he looked like _that_, so helpless and adorable, would be like kicking a starving stray puppy...

NO! No, no, no! She would not. be. moved. As Wilson had so aptly put it, she was not about to be dragged down into his vortex of insanity. Not again! Hardening her upper lips, she raised one brow in amused inquisition, as though asking him what he was attempting ever so foolishly to do.

House simply smirked in return, moving closer to her till they stood _barely_ inches apart, puppy dog look returned in full force, his free hand now clutching hers desperately to his chest in a pitiful last attempt to break her. "Please Cuddles?"

He knew. He knew he'd won, from the disgusted look on her angular face to the stifled groan that always ensued when he forced her hand.

Cuddy rolled in tired exasperation, trying desperately to think of a way out of this. There wasn't one so she simply nodded. " Alright, House. I'll check on them for you."

He'd beaten her again. Damn.

Wilson dropped heavily into the chair Cameron had recently vacated. Being as she was the most innocent and unsuspicious looking of them all she had been the obvious candidate for the role of spy. Of course, at the moment that was the _only_ job worth doing which left them all doing absolutely nothing. Which tended to be boring as nothing was hardly something interesting.

At the moment, Chase and Foreman were engaged in what looked to be a highly cutthroat match of War, neither seeming to have the needed edge to get the upper hand in the match. But as they were otherwise occupied it left him alone to sort through his scattered thoughts. Which was in a way, a good and very much needed thing as he was currently not sure what was going on.

There had been a time not to long ago, when he wouldn't ever have even considered betraying his two closest friends like this. But then, the ducklings had sent the inquisitioner in, once again Cameron (Wilson was not sure _what _the men actually did but from what he had seen, it obviously wasn't much), and began asking questions about House and Cuddy, what they had been like in college, had they always been like this etc. That had been what had sparked his attention and when they had said they had a plan to "expose" the duo, he could not but join in. Granted, he wasn't one to be so deceitful, especially to the two he tended to enable, but both of them needed someone to be evolved with, what could be better than getting them evolved with _each other_? He had allowed himself to get hooked.

So while he often had managed to avoid getting caught in House's vortex of insanity he had fallen into the ducklings...and they were just as bad.

At the sound of a glass door being hastily thrown open, he looking up, his momentary reverie broken. In mere seconds, the entirety of Cameron burst on through the open fixture to collapse, panting, into the last empty chair.

Despite her shortness of breath (and general shortness, but that was another matter), the young woman was laughing, a lopsided grin gracing her pretty face. Chase and Foreman abruptly ended their game, neither being the winner, both waiting patiently for the "news."

After a few uncomfortable moments, she regained control of herself, wiping a few tears of mirthful joy from her eyes. "It worked," declared she with such mirth it was contagious. It took only seconds for the smile to be shared upon the men's face.

"So House has gone to Cuddy for refuge." Wilson tapped his fingers together in much the way a scheming evil genius does. "The plan is moving along smoothly."

Chase and Foreman exchanged a conspiritory wink, each grinning evilly to the other, mischief dancing unconcealed in their eyes.

"But," Foreman stated, speaking up. "There's one thing we need if we're gonna go through with this..."

Chase smirked, taking up the metaphorical torch, "A team name! We were thinking something along the lines of "Team Organized Chaos!"

Cameron's lips pursed, one brow raised in what looked dangerously akin to idle annoyance. "How does that relate to what we're doing?"

"Because..." the young Aussie stammered, " We're organized and brining chaos into House and Cuddy's life?"

"Nice save."

Wilson stood finally, empowered by the name, grinning. "Actually I like it! It fits! Team Organized Chaos, move out!" His smile became distinctly evil. "Begin Operation Horrify House!"

A whoop of truimph followed.

She couldn't watch anymore. Cuddy drew away from the room, walking numbly down the halls, her already pale face now ashen. House had been right (and that was an annoyance in itself really), the ducklings were conspiring against them. And somehow they had managed to drag Wilson, dear Wilson, the one she could trust above all else, into their petty little plot. Righteous zeal bubbled up within her; House had to be warned, before it was to late.

Striding confidently down the over illuminated halls of _her _hospital she stalked back towards her office, the one haven she had left.

"House!" She snapped as the man strode past her, a sandwich that had obviously just been commandeered from Wilson in hand. The Dean caught his arm up, using her momentum to pull him along after her without even pausing to break stride, " We need to talk, NOW!"

There was a flash of understanding in his crystalline eyes and obediently, he nodded, not making a snarky comment for once, perhaps able to sense her ire.

Or perhaps it was just because his mouth was full of sandwich.


	3. Chapter 3: Operation Horrify House

Sky: Here is the next chapter... I meant for it to be up sooner but there was a delay in my abilities to update...

House: (cough) Laziness (cough)

Sky: (glares) Anyway. In return for the delay I have decided to make this chapter a bit more...fluffy.

Cuddy: You disgust me. Sky (thankfully for my sake) does not own House or any of its characters...

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Chapter 3: Operation Horrify House

"See," House was saying between enormous bights of sandwich. "I told you they were conspiring!"

"No, you told me they were plotting."

"Cuddles, we've been through this already, they're synonyms."

Yes, the duo had inevitably returned to the safety of Cuddy's office, the only place they could find to safely hide out. House's office had been to close to the conspirators lair, Wilson's couldn't be used and the showers, despite House's desperate pleas that they hide there, had been far to...public, for here liking. So as obvious and indiscreet as it was, they were hiding in her office, which was perfectly fine with her. It was a tad more comfortable than the showers for a few...obvious reasons.

At the moment, she lay sprawled across the length of the couch, watching in amusement as House paced idly about her office, looking quite ridiculous with his over sized sandwich. Oh, he'd offered to sprawl with her but, as she had pointed out with the slightest hint of a bawdy smile, there were simply to many condiments on it, and those would damage the upholstery.

"And what about when I finfish?" He mumbled through another sizable bight.

Cuddy rolled so she was facing him directly, taking great pains to maneuver her shirt in the process so as to show off an inordinate amount of her expansive cleavage. With a husky, seductive pitch to her voice, she managed to get the next phrase off without laughing at the absurdness of it all. "We'll just have to see now, won't we, Housey?"

There wasn't the slightest change in his expression as the sultry mock-invitation escaped her lips. His bights did however, become somewhat larger as though he was in a hurry to finish. Cuddy just rolled her eyes in amusement. She had no intention of following through with it, to even think she would do such a brazen thing, and with House, who couldn't keep his big mouth shut if his life depended on it, was perfectly foolish.

Yawning, she rose from the couch, returning behind her desk. Conspirators or no she wanted him out of her office as soon as possible. "Alright House, clinic duty."

"Objection!" He yelled threw a mouthful of half chewed salami bits.

Cuddy didn't even look up for the paper she had taken to reading. "Overruled."

"Damn."

The monotonous routine that plagued all his days passed by without a single disturbance. Not one of the now verified conspirators were to be seen; even Wilson had taken his leave of the establishment early. And that set off is suspicion once again. Even if he was dieing of some horrible, painful, hellish disease he would never, ever leave early. Never.

House shrugged, not being one to ponder on things that would not directly affect him, simply grabbing his belongings from the now lightless office. The clock on the hall wall read 8:30...

Cuddy wouldn't mind to much if he left a little early.

Almost on reflex, the keys were in the lock, opening the door to his haven, his home. Here was the one place he could go to avoid all of his work mates...most of the time. They had recently developed a most annoying habit of dropping by in the dead of night to scare the heck outta him. And that tended to put a bit of a black mark on ones nights of _undisturbed _rest. But today, anyone that would have been a risk to his peace had gone home early, so, in theory, he was safe. With a cheery grin he threw the door wide open, tossing the keys aside whilst shredding his coat. It was about time for his daily dose of...

"SURPISE!" Shouted four overly familiar voice, the lights flicking on fast enough to send him into a momentary daze. No god...no...

That had not been what he'd expected. It showed. His uncommonly cheerful face fell into a look of sheer terror. They were here...in his home...all of them...

He turned on his heel and marched right on out the still open door. He would not be caught up in _their _vortex of insanity! Wilson gave a mock laugh that rang with poorly veiled superiority and...smugness. He knew he was winning. Damn.

His "friend", House was using the term rather loosely now, caught up the rapidly escaping M.D's arm, dragging him back into the lair of doom, death and ultimately, pure evil. "Now, now House, we know you don't like these kind of things..."

"Then why are you throwing one," he whined.

"But we decided we should all get to know each other a littler better."

Cameron emerged from the depths of his kitchen with an oversized bag of chips and some sort of floofy drink Chase had been making. It was almost 90 straight Vodka so the first few had tasted rather disgusting. Drinks three threw five had been much better and her sixth was bordering on sheer deliciousness...or tastelessness. She was having a hard time discerning which through the hazy cloud hanging over her vision. But hey, drinks sure tasted better here in hazy land. "So we decided to have a slumber party," the young woman slurred, swaying dangerously even with Chase bracing her.

House simply stared, then sighed in resignation. There was no use in trying to argue with a drunk women. It just never ended well for either party...especially when the either part of the party happened to be the male. So he simply settled down on the couch between Foreman and Wilson, deciding to suffer their insanity.

Hours. Hours went by. Alright, on some level that was a bit of an overstatement. According to the clock on the wall, which he now despised for having _obviously_ stopped time, decreed it had only been half an hour. This however was evidently a false.

It had taken, according to the clock of ultimate evil, half an hour to make his eyes twitch. Half an hour of their sappy childhood stories. For gods sake, did he care whether or not their pet gold fish died when they were five? NO!

House gently massaged his temple, trying to ease the incessant migraine edging its way into his conscious mind or at least stop the constant throbbing in his head. It wouldn't abate however, reassuring him with perfect finality that it would not desist till he got away from Cameron's sob story about her eighth grade prom. If it didn't kill him, the encroaching migraine pointed out cheerily, the remainder of the story would.

Rising in a huff, the man renowned for his irritable temperament vacated the room, returning to the welcome solace, of his own bed room. He'd allow them to stay...as long at they _stayed_ out there! Settling down into bed, he picked up his latest read, preparing to unwind from a long days work...

_He wasn't sure were he was but it was calming. Snow flickered in the ethereal moonlight cutting through the thing layer of cloud cover, descending in delicate beams to enlighten the entirety of the pastoral scene. Despite the icy surroundings, he was perfectly comfortable, warm and relaxed, simply lying there on his back, staring up at the pin pricks of light in the clearing sky, stars twinkling playfully down at him, just out of reach. Something sinfully pleasant was resting lightly atop his chest, its head nuzzled next to his neck, silky hair tickling his chin, smelling pleasantly of freshly cut winter roses and peppermints. The perfect winter scent. _

"_Mmm," it mumbled, propping itself up on one elbow to peer directly into his eyes. Somehow it didn't seem overly weird that his mystery visitor was none other than his favorite foil and Dean, Lisa Cuddy. And he didn't question why exactly they were out in the snow in the middle of no where...it just fit. She smiled at him, her blue eyes smoky. "House," she mumbled, gently nibbling on his lower lip, voice dulcet. "If you'd just scoot over a bit..." _

_All and every pleasure came to a jarring halt at that. That last part...that voice. had. not. been. Cuddies. The Dean's voice was smooth, compelling and sultry this had been whiny and more than a tad irritating almost like..._

House woke up, drenched in terrified sweat, in time to see Cameron slide into bed beside him. And faster than anyone would have believed a cripple capable of, he slid right on out. He didn't bother to ask why she had done it...he just grabbed his book and...left.

In the living room the three men were faring far better than their now unconscious female counter part, still awake and drinking and now, playing a fun filled game of Halo 2 that they'd managed to retrieve from Chase's house. In other words, they were going to be up for a while and there was no where for _him _to sleep.

He sighed again, grabbed his coat and snuck out unnoticed. If his currant plan failed he'd have to return home to share a bed with crazy... or crash at his office. Whichever the alcohol he intended to consume upon failure dictated!

It was nearly midnight. Normally Cuddy would have been fast asleep but it had been dodging her for the past few hours. So she simply lie there in bed, wide awake, thinking over the days events and relishing the quiet. When her mind decided it was ready, she would retire to the much needed rest.

Silence filled the spacious rooms of her home. Silence. The one thing she would never manage to get at work unless she had the good fortune of going prematurely deaf. Or course, then people would be signing at her all day and that would be little better and would become annoying. Fast. So she relished in this reprieve, especially after such a trying day. Blessed silence.

RAP! RAP! RAP!

She rolled her eyes. Of course _that_ would happen. She didn't care how important he was to her or the hospital. She was going to kill him. Grabbing her robe she rolled out of the comfortable embrace of her layers of flannel blankets, padded across the chilled floor and to the door.

"House, it's midnight. What the hell do you want!?"

He stood there as calmly as though dropping by in the dead in pajamas was a common place thing. Which she supposed it was as she'd lost count of how many time the idiot had woken her from a peaceful slumber.

"The ducklings decided to throw a slumber party at my house." That lightened her mood a tad. "And Cameron is passed out in my bed...sooo...I wondering..."

Cuddy rolled her eyes, holding the door open long enough for him to scurry inside. "You can sleep on the couch."

He looked reluctant, ominous puppy dog look returning full force. She was to tired to effectively fight it. "But," he whined. "What if they come to get me?"

The man was paranoid. "Fine," she moaned, leading the way back to her room. After all his midnight visits she wished she'd remembered to have a guest room added on. Not that it would have mattered, he would have insisted on staying with her anyway. Regardless, she added getting a guest room to her mental to-do list. "You can sleep in with me."

"I knew you couldn't resist..."

"IF!" She snapped, crawling back under the covers. "You promise to stay on your side of the bed. Or else..."

"Or else clinic duty, you really should find a new threat, Cuddles," he grumped, but finally agreed and crawled in beside her. Half a bed was better than the couch it seemed.

Silence. It had returned in all its blissful entirety for both doctors had once again settled down till each was comfortable...and not touching, her buried beneath the mountain of covers, him engaged in his book. The light was bothering her though...

"I never thought you were one to read book based on video games House," she muttered shooting a glance at the cover of the novel.

He didn't look up, only turned the page. "Its a surprisingly good read. Beside, the heroine reminds me of you."

That both terrified and intrigued her. "Really?"

Now he looked up, blue eyes dancing with mirth. "Sadly yes. You're both indisputably gorgeous, impeccably smart, funny on occasions, kind, loyal and willing to die for your friends or what you believe in. Martyrs the lot of you. Hot, crazy martyrs..."

She smiled, the entirety of her face lighting up in sheer pleasure. "House..."

His attention flicked back to the book. "Of course, she also become a blood thirsty fiends that slaughters entire planets and kills all her friends and allies. Oh look! Twice!"

She hit him over the head with her pillow before settling down to sleep once again, switching off his lamp. "Goodnight House!" She growled.

"G'night Cuddles."

* * *

Sky: The dark deed is done. Sorry if this chapter was really corny, I wanted some flirty interaction between House and Cuddy but writing romance is not yet one of my high points. I'd love to know what you all thought of the chapter though and any tips for making this better...

House: I'll give you one tip...

Cuddy: DON'T TAKE THE TIP! (All stare) Um...I meant...

Sky: (stares) Chapter four should be up in a few days so review everyone. I love to hear from ya'll.


	4. Chapter 4: Drawing of the Web

Sky: Thank you all for reviewing! It's so encouraging! So to reward you all, I'm updating fast...er...

House: Which goes against every fiber of her lazy essence...

Cuddy: The cripple speaks true...

Sky: I'm being dissed by my own spokes peoples...I'll do the disclaimer this time as House is avoiding it as avidly as clinic duty. I don't own House...nuff' said.

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**Chapter 4: Drawing of the Web**

It was a strange way to awaken and one Lisa was not used to; this feeling of comfort and warmth despite the fact that she'd kicked the blankets aside hours before while she slept. Sleepily, she allowed one cerulean colored eye to blink open, clearing the grogginess from the tired thing. Now, let it be noted that she hadn't exactly expected to wake up in a manner such as this but she wasn't exactly condemning it either. The night before, she and House had gone to sleep on opposite sides of the bed now...well now there was not even an inch between them.

No, Cuddy had awoken blissfully entwined with House, both her arms pressed tightly to his chest and her own, head resting pleasantly on his shoulder, his chin on her forehead. One of his much larger arms had enfolded her waist somewhere along the course of the night, the other lost somewhere with the dark curls of her hair.

This hadn't exactly been the way she wanted to wake up. In fact, it was the opposite of how she had wanted to wake up. And the worst part, and the reason she was hating it the most was simple. She found some sick, twisted part of her loving it. Which was disturbing. In more ways the one.

Gently she rolled away, detangling her own limbs without managing to wake him. Which was just as well; he would tease her incessantly for the rest of their careers for such a slip. She suffered to indulge the twisted part of her one final time though and placed the lightest of kisses on his lips, subconsciously marveling at how soft they were. Deftly she reached behind her, fingers burying deep into the familiar surface of a pillow and...

THWACK!

"Gah..." was his smart reply as something remarkably fluffy but impeccably hard smashed into his face. It was amazing how something so comfortable as a pillow could be used as such a deadly weapon when in the right hands. And at the moment, those skilled hands were none other than Lisa's Cuddy's. "CUDDY!" he snapped, catching her arm and the projectile in mid route, thankful it had not hit home a second time. His face was going to be sore as was. "Stop using your feathery sleep ware as a blunt weapon!"

There was only a snide chuckle in response. The elaborate drapes had already been drawn back though the sun had yet to raise fully into the sky, only a slight pink and orange hue served to illuminate the still dark sky. And that meant it was before dawn and likely five in the morning. Why Cuddy was waking him at such an ungodly hour was beyond his reasoning but he was going to have to deal with that. At the moment, bondage...or murder, were beginning to look like shining prospects. A dead Cuddy would be a quiet Cuddy and that would make for a happy House.

One look at her though disarmed even the smallest thoughts of going through with it. She was sheer loveliness, sitting cross legged amidst the mountain of tangled sheets, her hair tousled fetchingly in disarray, eyes twinkling mischievously. And any mischief was likely going to be at his expense.

"House," she laughed, "You didn't keep your end of the bargain! Guess who's going to be serving in the clinic without cease...?" Her tone was so cheerily sing-song he was half torn between horror and asking her what in the name of that was holy she had done with the real, nasty, curmudgeony Cuddy; the Cuddy that would have punched him square in the face for such an indecency. This one didn't even seemed offended by it!

"Cuddy," he muttered, taking the pillow from her limp hand to place it behind his head. "If you'll notice, I remain on my side of the bed...near the edge of the bed in fact, as though I was _FORCED _over there because _somebody _happened to be encroaching on _someone's_ side and the afore mentioned _someone_ was trying desperately to avoid contact at the risk of **clinic duty**."

Her face, scrunched up as though running this over through her head. Horror dawned. "Crap..."

"And since I was so wrongfully accused, I think someone should serve my time in the white prison you have dubbed "clinic..."

She frowned, shrugged and settled back down on her original side, snuggling into the now cool blankets. "Fine. Foreman's not busy today." And that made him smirk; there was the Cuddy he had come to know. He was glad she was back; nice Cuddy was disturbing...in many, many ways. " We have to be to work in a few hours."

"Correction. _You_ have to be to work in a few hours. _I _don't have to get there till noon. _I _have a reputation of being fashionably late, wouldn't want to let the good gossips down now would I? No, that wouldn't be polite."

She shrugged grabbing her robe and a towel. "Your going to be there on time House. That would be the downside of spending the night at the Deans house. She knows where you were and what time you left. You show up late and..."

"CLINIC DUTY! I get it...seriously, new punishment. The novelty of that one is wearing off. Threaten me with death next time; maybe you'll get a few jitters."

She rolled her eyes.

People called him evil. He preferred to think of himself of celestially challenged. That was what make him the perfect opposite to the angelic Dean who was viewed with adoration and love wherever she went. And, the more that he thought about it, the more he liked being her foil, the yang to her yin...it was fun.

This was one of those fun moments. Cuddy was supposedly angelic but had a temper a demon would have envied, especially when he got her riled. And after she saw what he'd done to her office she be more than riled and come hunting him down. Which again was fine as he was a remarkably talented hider; years of dodging the blood thirsty seraph and his ducklings had bred this talent.

It had also made him stealthy. Cuddy's latest assistant made no move to stop him as he snuck into her unattended office. She had told him to come on time; he had got there early, before her even, in order to fulfill his nefarious plot. By his estimations, he had another hour before she graced them with her angelic presence, which was more than enough time to get his work done. With fiendish pleasure he left her a note, a disk attached to it, and took the one thing she could never function without...

After hiding them in the one place she would never think of looking, and Cuddy would think of numerous places in which to look, he returned to office, smug with superiority. Now all he had to do was wait...

"HOUSE! How could he...the idiot has gone to far..."

Wilson simply sat in Cuddy's office, watching as the Dean stalked about her office, fuming and hurling obscenities at the man. They were making his final plan almost too easy to carry out. House had even had the good nature as to perform the next step for him. Excellent..."What did he do this time?"

She rounded on him, "The moron stole my paper work! Do you know how hellish tomorrow would be if I don't get that done, you know, TODAY! I'm going to kill him! Screw clinic duty, he's right! I _am_ going to threaten his life!"

He held his hands up in a sign of peace. "Easy Cuddy, it's going to be fine." The glare he received was the farthest thing from fine, housing a fiery wrath hell itself could not have mustered. Having Cuddy kill House was not a part of the plan...he would have to cover for his friend the moron one more time... "I'll go talk to House and get him to come on down here and give the papers back, that way you can take some time to cool off." Another dangerous scowl. "And...if I'm not back within half an hour you can go down and kill him. Sound fair?"

She heaved a rough, irritated sigh, the entirety of her slender frame shaking with fury. Normally he doubted she would have cared so much about House pulling a Housism but they had been accumulating at a rapid pace over the week; the results had been instantly noticeable, especially when it came to her rapidly fraying nerves. Slowly she nodded, looking none to pleased with this. Even as he reached the door though he heard her speak, " Wilson, I'll pay you a thousand extra dollars to take more than half an hour..."

Great.

With as much discretion as he could muster he shut the door to the fuming woman's office. If there was one thing he had learned over the years working here it was: never, ever engage Cuddy when she was mad. Which pretty much went hand in hand with: never get in involved in House and hers childish squabbles and, while he adored this plan of action, it was nearly impossible to go through with. If there was a pissed Cuddy after him, he was the first distraction/shield available to House.

He told himself this, this plot, was just for their own betterment. The evil half of him that he kept buried beneath his naiveté and boyish charm however told him otherwise. This was revenge for all those years they had forced him to stand right in the middle of their feuds, or sent him to play messenger between them when they were to pissed with one another to stand in the same room and apologize...which they never did. So here it was. Revenge. And it was a dish he found himself enjoying more than he ought of.

Whistling a merry tune to himself he strode down to his old friends office. The idiot wouldn't run and hide, especially when he had done some to intentionally get a rise out of Cuddy. He _wanted_ her to come fight him. Masochist.

House looked up from his book with a distinctly innocent grin, pretending he knew nothing of the situation that had forced Wilson to play diplomat yet again. If his plan didn't work and the two of them kept fighting he was going to start charging Cuddy every time she sent him down here. He'd be rich in no time. "I take it you made a visit to our dear Dean's office this fine morning."

The cripple shrugged, admiring the glossy handle of his cane. "Correction dear Wilson, I paid a visit to our dear Dean's office before dawn. You know, when she woke me up."

"Why was Cuddy waking you up in the first place!?"

"Because it was her or a hung over Cameron doing it," he snapped. "I chose life! Sorta."

Wilson shrugged dropping down into the spare seat House kept just for these sort of occasions. It wasn't for patients; he never let them in here. The clock on the wall informed him he had about fifteen more minutes before his dearly beloved boss strolled on down here in righteous indignation. "House if you'd chosen life you wouldn't have prodded the lioness! She's seriously gonna kill you."

"You have no proof of that."

"Besides the fact that she said so," he stated dryly.

House stroked his chin, the resulting sound sounding much like rubbing two pieces of Velcro together as the fingers slid across the stubble he was so hell-bent of preserving. He smiled evilly, "Oh this is gonna be good."

"House, you're a moron."

From somewhere beneath his desk, the afore mentioned "moron" withdrew a massive pile of folders and handed them to Wilson. "How long do I have before she comes down here in all her irate glory?"

Wilson shrugged. "Ten minutes."

The man cackled like some deranged boy torturing his favorite puppy. "Good, I want you to take these back to her office. AFTER she's left. Then I can claim innocence..."

He took the folders and left House to his maniacal scheming. Somehow he was beginning to understand why Foreman was so mortified by the thought of becoming him. He did not however, head in the direction of Cuddy's office, opting instead for the doors of the hospital. Plan C was in full swing...heheheh...

"HOUSE!"

The snarl (he had not really thought someone as seemingly delicate as Cuddy was capable of such a thing) of absolute indignation and sheer furry rang through the halls, causing doctors, nurses and any other living being foolish enough to have crossed her path to scurry hastily out of the danger zone. Like Wilson, they too had learned to stay as far out of these fights as possible...or lose a limb trying to disrupt them.

The glass doors to his office were thrown open with such force they bounced off the walls and shut themselves again...but not before smacking Cuddy in the ass. While it caused him to snicker it did nothing to improve her already violent temperament. Wilson had been right, if he didn't act soon the beast _was_ going to kill him.

"House," she growled, gnashing her teeth together in a desperate attempt to hold onto her control...it didn't seem to be working. House watched in amusement as her fists clenched and unclenched down by her waist; she wasn't aware of it, it was simply a reflex. "What did you do with my paper work?"

"And how, my dear succubus, do you know I was behind this fiendish act?"

"Because," she snapped, "Your the only one stupid enough to break into the Dean's office and steal her paper work. Now were is it!?"

"What, are you gonna give me clinic duty if I don't tell you?"

"No, but I might..." her train of thought was interrupted by his overly smug leer. Damn...why did she always forget to never learn over his desk...as was her threat was gaining little weight. He was to busy staring down her shirt to really take notice. "House, look at my face please. Its a few more inches north then where you're looking," slowly his eyes slid back up to her face and he pouted again. She was mad enough this time to not worry over it. "Good boy. Now, if you don't show where my paper work is, I will kill you. Or better yet, make you _wish _you were dead. Are we clear?"

He gulped; Cuddy _could_ make him wish he were dead. It was one of her annoying abilities she hardly ever had to employ. "I'm telling you I didn't take your papers..."

"Yes you did!"

"How can you tell?"

She was shaking in horrible rage. "BECAUSE YOU'RE _**YOU**_!"

He sighed rolling his eyes. "Valid point that one, I take it you were never on the debate team in high school?"

"House..." she warned.

"Fine..." secretly he was beginning to get worried. Cuddy hardly ever stayed so livid for so long, things were not going to bode well for him if he didn't get her calmed done soon. "Your papers are in your office..."

She still managed to looked pissed but seemed a bit more in control. "Your coming with me, House. That way I can kill you if they're not there."

Wilson better have pulled through.

"I'm telling you they were right there!"

Yes they had once again returned to her office only to find that the papers were nowhere to be found. Wilson had obviously not returned the papers to her office. Cuddy tapped her foot impatiently, glaring House down.

"I'm telling you Cuddy, I gave the papers to Wilson who was supposed to put them back when you left!"

Her anger towards him seemed to abate a bit. "You gave the papers to Wilson?" He nodded. "You gave my papers to one of the known conspirators who are out to sabotage our every move?"

"Well...when you put it like that..."

"House. You're a moron."

He sighed. "I've been hearing that a lot lately."

Cuddy muttered something to herself, grabbing her coat and keys, motioning that he follow her. "I get to kill him first..."

He smirked, draping an arm friendlily over her shoulders. "Get in line sister."

* * *

Sky: YEY! Chapter four is totally done and stuff!

House: YEY! We get to kill Wilson! **Score**! High five me Cuddles!

Cuddy: Seriously, don't ever call me that. **Ever**.

Sky: (stares) Um...there's going to be more of Wilson and the ducklings in the next chapter. Get ready, House and Cuddy are going to...

House: (giddily) Assault Wilson's apartment. (the girls stare)

Sky: Um...anyway. I have little assignment for you all. I want you to go out. And listen to "Only One" by Yellowcard. Listen to the words. And then review and tell me if I'm crazy thinking its a song that fits the Huddy relationship. Be happy all. I'm giving you a chance to call me loopy.

Cuddy: You _are_ loopy. We'll see you all next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5: Screwing Up The Web

Cuddy: Alright everyone...Sky is not with us today. She's still enjoying...

House: Enjoying! PAH! If I know that little psycho, she's fighting tooth and nail to get out of your alter ego's long, drawn out wedding ceremony...

Cuddy: HEY! In all 42 of my wedding plans the ceremony is NOT drawn out...

House: Uh...

Cuddy: Now it may not be on the short side but...

House: Dear god...what have I done...? Sky does not own me or Cuddy...but hopefully she'll get back from angsty land soon...I can't handle this wedding talk alone...

* * *

**Chapter 5: Screwing Up The Web**

"Why do I get the feeling this isn't going to work? Oh, that's right! Because you're a lunatic!"

"Ah, Cuddles! That hurts." House paused in his labors to feign injury, clutching one hand in an overly dramatic fashion to his chest. She simply rolled her eyes and motioned for him to return to his task, tapping her heeled foot against the unyielding surface of the polished wood flooring of the apartment building.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Of course I do! You question my unfailing lock picking abilities?" Cuddy opened her mouth to protest. She did indeed doubt his abilities. A lot. "Don't answer that. My skills shall soon put to rest any of your treasonous doubt." He continued fiddling with the lock with a paper clip he had obviously stolen from her office before they left. There was a click from the lock, and he drew himself up loftily. "Turn the handle now!" So she did.

It didn't open. She turned to him smugly, holding up the remains of the paper clip. The snap had been the flimsy metal of the office tool giving way rather than the lock opening. "Well that worked."

"I'm not done yet!" He snapped. "Alright, Cuddy I'm going to need you for this. When I tell you, I want you to set your shoulder against the door. Got it?" She nodded doing as said. House set his hand on her shoulder, using it for support while she braced against the door. Setting his weight on her he lashed out with his good leg in a well aimed kick; the door creaked and flung open bouncing against the wall behind in a loud clatter that had obviously just alerted everyone in the building that there had just been a break in. Marvelous.

"Well," she eyed his work. "That was discreet."

He shrugged, keeping his hand on her shoulder though he had shifted his weight back upon the cane. "Discreet sucks. I prefer flashy!" She smiled, wrapping an arm friendlily around his waist, motioning with her head that they should continue inwards. If someone had called the police she wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

Now, some folk may be confused by this series of events because it is obvious that the Dean of medicine, celestial goodness incarnate (she still wasn't sure why people had assigned her this title as she was obviously not _always_ sheer kindness), would not be running around breaking into random folks home. Of course, this was not a random home so technically, at least in her mind, that law was voided. This was Wilson's home and thus was fine for her to break into. Especially because she had a mission and it required breaking into his home. It really was a noble mission, one that required the utmost patience and forethought...

Namely, kill the little snake before anyone heard him scream.

She ran a hand through her tousled raven hair. That had been a very House-like thought; as soon as this was over she was going on a vacation far, far away from him. If she stayed to long she'd soon was going to start dodging clinic duty. Though...come to think of it she really had never been fond of clinic duty and in his position would also have been...

Dear god, she was infected.

"Alright, let me get this straight, House stole Cuddy's paperwork. You then stole the paperwork from House and now are giving it to us..." Foreman drawled, looking more than a little confused. Which was understandable; the situation really had taken a noise drive straight into crazy land.

Wilson nodded perkily. "That's right. Except, for the record, _I _did _not_ steal Cuddy's paperwork from House. _He_ gave it to me. And then _I _left."

Well that made sense. He was not above doing evil deeds every once and a while but Wilson would never do anything illegal like stealing. That was why he had needed the ducklings. They had experience with those types of things.

"Alright, here's the plan," the ducklings gathered round their self appointed leader. "If I know House and Cuddy, and trust me, I do, they are no doubt breaking into my apartment as we speak..."

"But that's where you left Cameron!" Chase protested, rushing to the aid of his crush/lover. Granted she wasn't there to be flattered and would likely never even hear of his fool hearty devotion to her sorry ass, but hey! It was the thought that counted.

Wilson chuckled to himself. "And a fourth of Cuddy's papers! We are going to lead them right where we want them..."

"Which is...?"

He shrugged. "I'm thinking this up as I go alright. Any way, everyone take a pile of papers, Foreman, you stay here. Chase come with me." The young man shrugged, giving way to the seemingly wise man's plan. Wilson hadn't failed them yet.

" However girlie he might act I gotta hand it to him, Wilson's got a pretty sweet bar going on here."

Cuddy smacked him upside the head, hard. "You're supposed to be looking for my paper work not boozing!" House shrugged and poured himself a hefty glass of scotch, replaced the bottle and grabbed two beers from the fridge.

He sipped the drink and shoved one of the beers into her hand not bothering to wait till she had a good grip on it. "Ya, but I search better when I'm wasted, and unless you wanna feel totally left out of the fun I recommend you start. Drink up, sweetheart!" Cuddy favored him with her best glare but took a deep swig of the offered beverage none the less. Her nerves were frayed, she was tired, she had a lunatic as her partner, and all this was overlooking the fact that she had just broke into an apartment. In this light she was almost tempted to go along with her foil's plan. In fact, come to think of it, getting drunk sounded rather pleasant at the moment...

She downed the rest of her beer, handed the empty bottle back to a shocked House and went back to searching, thumbing through a book case, leaned over the back of the couch to check there and...

House snickered audibly. "Cuddy either that beer went straight to your head or your modesty went right out the window. Either way I'm not complaining, but your skirt is riding up a wee bit high..."She chucked a pillow at him shutting off whatever lewd comment he had intended to say. " Wow! You're frisky tonight! Don't get too drunk before we head back to your place Cuddles, those cops are really cracking down on those driving under the influence."

After so many years of working with him, tolerating him, suffering the indecencies of his company, she had learned to let things like that slide. As far as House-isms went that one was pretty tame and ultimately, inoffensive. She smirked and half turned to him, pausing in her search. "Oh please House! You've seen me drink before. It'll take a bit more than one beer to get me zonked."

He stared at her for a minute, wondering why she had not commented about his lewd remark. "You're under the influence of something Cuddles, normally you would have smacked me for making a comment about your skirt."

"I _**am**_ under the influence of something. It's called a fanatical employee. They have a tendency towards making their bosses lives living hells. Oh, and losing their paper work."

"I didn't lose it I just can't find it..." he muttered darkly downing the rest of his scotch, smiling pleasantly as the warm liquid washed comfortably over his senses easing away the troubles of the day and the pains creeping into his leg. Not even Cuddy's ranting was going to get to him soon. " Besides, being under _my_ influence isn't _that_ bad, I've been told I'm quite a pleasant captor when it comes down to it."

Cuddy gave him the most sultry smile in the history of mankind, righting herself before crossing to House, not bothering to shift her clothing so it would modestly cover her excellent...assets. Still smirking playfully, she brushed her hands over his chest before moving seductively into him, enjoying the way his face flushed ever so subtly around the neck. "No," she purred, "I'm sure it would be absolute heaven under your influence..." teasingly she stood on her tip-toes, gently brushing her lips across his cheek in a manner that caused a momentary lapse in the infallible doctors breathing. Lightly, gently she pressed closer, staring up at him, cerulean eyes meeting his icy ones. "But," she whispered, nuzzling his chin with her forehead. "Until you find my paper work..."House was to lost in the moment to hear that part. "You're gonna be treating yourself!" In one deft, ridiculously graceful movement she darted away from him, leaving the poor man stumbling stupidly for a moment.

He glared. "Not funny."

In a manner still irresistibly sexy she licked her lips, "Well I'd say that's a matter of opinion."

"Ha-ha, you're a tramp. Sorry hunny, not much of a newsflash there." The resulting glare silenced him. Even House knew when he had reached his limit.

"Cuddy, we've been searching for an hour, downed most of Wilson's booze and still haven't found your paperwork. And don't you tell me that one is the result of the other!"

The Dean of Medicine rolled her eyes in suppressed annoyance before dropping heavily upon the couch, burying her head in the pillows. If she had wanted to kill Wilson before, the feeling had long since changed...

Now torturing him for a few years and _then_ killing him sounded inviting. And then she'd let House mutilate his corpse and string it outside the hospital as a warning to other idiotic oncologists who decided to be sneaky little rats.

Someone plopped lazily down beside her, forcing another beverage into her hand. A glass of whiskey now it seemed. She downed it without thinking, taking more pleasure then merited in how it eased away her frustration. Getting her drunk had probably been House's first objective, if only to quell her seething irritation but she was far from angry at him for it. In fact she was almost grateful. And he had partly succeeded already, for while she was still a long way from totally drunk, her anger was abating rapidly.

She shifted slightly, trying to get a bit more comfortable. The couch was miserably stiff and the pillows were little better; the result was not a favorable one. Stifling a groan she continued to squirm. Mentally she knew, she _knew_, House was snickering or at least smirking at her displeasure. Muttering something about more clinic duty, Cuddy returned to her struggles against the devious piece of furniture. It sure had looked comfortable enough...

House watched her struggle for a minute more before his pride gave way to his desire to have a peaceful, silent environment. Besides, her constant fidgeting was getting on his nerves. Mumbling an unintelligible curse against the entire female race, he drew her head onto his lap. "Better?"

She pouted, playfully crossing her arms over her chest. He supposed it was meant to come across as imposing. It fell well short. "I was doing fine you know."

"Right. And the squirming was just exercise I assume? Missed your morning jog and had to compensate in some way?" She back handed him across the chest before finally relaxing, her breathing steadying until he was positive she was asleep. Great. If Wilson or one of the ducklings walked in now he would never hear the end of it.

He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds outside, to Cuddy's soft breathing, to the incessant pounding in Wilson's bedroom...

Wait. Pounding? He listened again. Yup, it was definitely there. How they had missed such a thing was a mystery in itself but one he didn't dare fathom. Probably had something to do with their constant shouting matches.

"Cuddy," he nudged her, whispering into her ear. Still half asleep the woman swatted at him absently, moaning something he didn't care to translate. Her lewd dreams were her own problems. "Cuddy you need to wake up now." No answer. "CUDDY! WAKE UP!"

He almost felt bad for doing that. Almost. Letting out a surprised little yelp the woman leapt up, forgot she was on the couch and fell gracelessly off his lap and onto the floor. The death glare he received for his efforts at courtesy made him wince. The Lord save whatever idiot had the misfortune of ending up with her. "What was that for!?" She demanded, still looking rather...disorientated.

"Methinks I found your paper work." He pointed towards the bedroom.

Cuddy rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Come on House, I'm tipsy but not stupid. You're not gonna get me in there with _that_ line." He glared raising one brow as though questioning her renowned intelligence for the first time. "Oh, you're serious." Nod. Seeing as she had no more complaints at the moment, House limped towards the bedroom, throwing the door open gracelessly.

And there sat Cameron, chin resting lazily in her, sitting cross legged atop the bed looking remarkably bored. "I was wondering when you guys would finally come in here. I almost thought you died for a second..."

That was all she was able to get out before the two descended upon her.

"Are you sure she's going to be alright?"

Wilson massaged his temples with a forefinger again in a last attempt to quell the encroaching migraine. How House had lived with this for three years he would never know.

Yes, Chase had yet to pause in his noble worries about his dearly beloved. Wilson was a romantic (hence his three marriages) but this was bordering on obsession. And was annoying. Which was more important. "Look, she's going to be fine. Worrying about her isn't going to do a thing, just drink your beer and have a good time." The Australian muttered something but took a deep swig of his ale anyway.

The oncologist relaxed slightly, letting some of the tension slip away from his muscles. Today had been tiring and dangerous...if either House or Cuddy had caught him...

He shivered at the thought. That would not have been a pretty picture. Maybe a violent, splotchy, blood stained one but definitely not a pretty. But they were far away. He could afford to relax.

His cell phone rang obnoxiously, beginning to play "Reflection." That meant Cameron was calling. "Heya Cam, they there yet?"

There was a silence on the other side of the line. Then a small yelp. The call was disconnected after that...

"Is she okay?" Chase demanded fervently. He received no answer as Wilson's phone rang anew this time playing "Rock is Dead." Great. House was calling.

"Hi there ol' buddy," his friend said with false chipper, sheer malice dripping from his words. Wilson cringed yet again...oh, they had figured it out alright. "I just thought I'd call and see how you were doing." there was a long pause as House spoke to someone heatedly. "Oh, and Cuddy says hi." There was a loud THWACK on the other side of the line. "Nope," he groaned. "Sorry, she says "die." Cuddy says she wants you to "die." Not hi. My mistake."

"House?"

It was to late. His friend had already hung up. "Ooops..."

Cuddy finished tying the rope around their hostage before the two vacated the apartment with a fourth of her needed paper work. "So, what did Wilson say?"

House shrugged. "He seemed nervous. Good thing too. You're a force to be reckoned with when someone pisses you off." The woman laughed.

"You and Wilson are the only ones that have walked away alive from one of my foul moods. You're also the only one that's ever escaped unscathed." She smiled up at him, some of her stress obviously relieved now that she had some of her paperwork back. "Sooooo...what do we do now?"

"I really don't know. Wait for Wilson to make the next move I guess. But, until then, maybe we should get some breakfast."

"House, it's three in the morning."

He smirked draping an arm over her shoulders for the second time that day. "Then we'll get the early bird special, won't we?"

And there was nothing she could say that would refute that logic.

* * *

Cuddy: Well, there it was, Chapter 5...

Sky: WAIT! (Sky bursts into the room in a freakishly heavy brides maid gown.) I have arrived. Sorry for the hold up, I got caught in _somebody's _long, drawn out wedding ceremony...had to fight tooth and nail to get out of _that _bear trap...(glares)

House: I _told_ you so.

Cuddy: - -  Shut up House.

Sky: (stares) Um...anyway. I have a question for you readers again. And you _actually_ have to answer this one. No more dodging the question! Well I guess you still could but...it would be better if you answered. So...here it is, the question that shall (or could) change the outcome of the entire story. Hear that? The ENTIRE story. I'm letting you guys dictate what happens...

Huddy: Get on with it.

Sky: And the question is...should I have House and Cuddy sleep together?

House: (smirking) The answer is a clear and resounding yes.

Cuddy: (fidgeting awkwardly) Um...I'll keep my opinion to myself...

Sky: (smirks) So we've got two people for it already. Vote good readers vote! Its up to you to dictate the direction we take. Till next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6: Taking It In Stride

Sky: doing her best Ryan Seacrest impersonation The fan fic-ys were given a most morbid choice last chapter, whether or not Huddy should take it to the next level. And today we have the results, dim the lights...

Cuddy: Seriously, how long is this gonna last?

Sky: Shut up. House, Cuddy, the results. (House clasps Cuddy's hand in an overdramatic fashion, Sky takes a long breath) After the chapter.

House: (darkly) Alright, who here didn't see that coming...?

* * *

**Chapter 6: Taking It In Stride**

If one has ever had the misfortune of seeking out a place to take ones breakfast at some ungodly time in the morning, you must well know the troubles our intrepid heroes were facing. Indeed, very few places have the foresight to consider that two renegade M.D's hunting down other renegade M.D's may want to stop in for some good and greasy food, and why shouldn't they? A little grease never hurt anyone...kind of...almost...

But, sadly, that was not the case. After half an hour ( though it seemed far longer due to the agonizing drumming encroaching upon her mind) of fruitless searching they finally found a place still open, small and rather...rustic, but in working order. So in they strolled, House's arm still draped comfortably over her shoulders till they settled down into an old booth that could not have seen use within the past year. Cuddy clutched her shoulder, barely suppressing a shiver; where his arm had rested was rapidly cooling leaving her chilled and uncomfortable. He offered her a sly smile in return, discreetly sliding his coat under the table so it rested lightly on her lap. The booth was small and their knees were nearly jammed together making such a maneuver possible; it also allowed her to draw warmth from his much more...concealed, legs.

She smiled in return, wrapping herself in the offered jacket. It was much to large and hung off her awkwardly almost everywhere, the sleeves especially. Only the tips of her long fingers protruded from the dark cuffs. Compared to her own outfit it was far from glamorous but, at three in the morning, she really wasn't in the mood for glamour. Besides, the jacket was warm and smelled pleasantly of...

House? When had she decided she liked his smell? Everything suddenly felt so awkward...she shouldn't even be here...

She wasn't hungry. She had never even been hungry. Why she was out getting breakfast at three in the morning was beyond her powers of reasoning; why she was doing it with House of all people was even more insane. It simply didn't make sense. Still, she stayed, watching as the exhausted waitresses of the grave yard shift wandered about the diner, the chefs slowly strolling about the kitchen and, most intently, the man sitting contentedly across from her.

In his own weird way she supposed he was handsome. Not the kind of handsome traditionally found appealing and, she supposed, if you picked him apart, looked at each of his features individually, he would be rather...strange looking. As a whole however, when everything fit into one flawless whole, he was beautiful. Sharp, pale features, gorgeous ice blue eyes...

"You find something you want?"

Cuddy flinched. "What?"

The grin she received for such a clever (its three in the morning! That was the best she could do!) response was unnerving, his glassy eyes boring into her with unveiled mischief. He knew. Knew that she had been gawking at him in a most un-Cuddy-ish way; what was more, she had done so without needing his incessant prodding. Marvelous. "I asked if you found something you wanted. Breakfast or me, take your pick." He shrugged in a manner that could have been considerable nonchalant. If you were blind.

It took effort, lots and lots of effort, to refrain from smacking him right then and there. In front of witnesses. It would be liberating, enjoyable...

She sighed, choosing to glare at him over her menu instead. "Arrogant ass," she muttered, loud enough so he would most definitely hear her. A few moments of scanning the menu had left her without appetite; nothing here appealed to her in any manner. Apparently the head chef has some strange obsession with grease and gravy as all considerably edible foods were drowned in them. Defiant, she set the menu down, "I'm actually not that hungry."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying!" She snapped, crossing her arms belligerently over her chest.

"You're lying."

"No, but I _am_ considering smacking you..."

House smirked. "_And_ kissing me?"

"Not a chance," she said, glaring at him nastily, one regal brow arched dangerously. She didn't even need to say it; the words just passed between them ominously. _Clinic. Duty. _

"Alright, you can smack me, then kiss me," he declared loudly enough so the whole of the restaurant managed to hear it. Cuddy ground the heel of her expensive stiletto into his toes, watching amusedly as his face contorted in a mixture of amusement and pain. What annoyed her more than anything else however, was the fact that, despite the obvious pain she was taking careful expertise to inflict on his toes, his attention was not being focused upon her, but, rather, a booth not three behind their own. His smile grew to a ridiculous size. "Oh Cuddles," he cackled, easing his foot from beneath her ebbing force, "You won't believe who's sitting right behind us..." He motioned her into a huddle of sorts.

And in but a few moments, she was sharing his smile; evil and satisfied.

Somewhere not far away from our intrepid hereos...

"Well you can smack me then kiss me..."

Those simple words. Just those seven words were enough to send a shiver of absolute terror resonating up Wilson's spine. House was here, and what was worse, Cuddy was with him. The oncologist knew that his old friend wouldn't dare to strike him...but, when it came to Cuddy, he wasn't half so sure. Those glorious, deep, cerulean eyes were very good at cloaking her emotions. Which made things awkward. Especially when her mouth was saying "Thank you" or something else polite and her eyes said, with rather pointed finality, "You're _so_ freaking dead it's not even funny." Right now he was pretty sure both mouth and eyes would be proclaiming the same message without any pretense. Namely, be prepared to get decked in a most unpleasant manner. Not that getting decked was ever pleasant. Especially so when the one of the other end of the punch was far smaller, more delicate and most definitely female. A thing House would never let him live down.

So Wilson opted for the second best option. Namely, become one with the fabric, vanishing from sight and his...future murderers.

Chase eyed him suspiciously over the rim of his coffee, his eyes clearly demanding to know why the oncologist was pressing himself so ardently against the questionably sterile fabric of the booth. It looked in need of a good cleaning. "What are you doing?" he inquired; his head cocked to the side. Wilson held one finger over his mouth, motioning for silence. It wouldn't be enough; House had the ears of any feral creature when it came to things that would work against Wilson or one of his "friends."

The familiar sound of expensive heels clicking against tile followed by the soft, more casual gate of the cripple met his ears, common, traditional sounds that would have been overlooked by any one else. To him, it was a message of doom. The death knell coming in the sound of a cripples steps. Oh sure, that would garner pity ,or jealously, from anyone who didn't know House, a nice old cripple walking out of a diner at three in the morning with an exotically gorgeous woman, looking sorrowful. But Wilson knew him; knew everything about him (that House let him know mind you ;). And he wasn't one for pity; just terror. Absolute, complete and utter terror.

The power couple strode on by, both gaits distinctly arrogant, pretentious; mischief dancing idly around in their auras. Before the table they stopped, each taking on their own form of superior victory stances; Cuddy with her clenched fists resting easily upon her hips, smiling in a manner so feral, so viciously predatory, that it bordered on...evil. House on the other hand, was not grasping for evil as his lovely accomplice was. When he wanted it, it came; everything about his current pose exuded it, the sheer malevolence undulating off him in waves, eyes narrowed dangerously, mouth turned up in a sharp, spiteful smirk, one arm draped gloatingly over Cuddy's slender shoulders. He knew the advantage he had. Wilson sunk further into the booth.

"Why Cuddy, look who it is! None other than our good friends Wilson and Chase! What do you make of that?" The master of all things evil drawled, turning towards the woman he was currently bracing against. She smiled up at him with almost as much unpleasantness, her form pressed to his, but her eyes sizing them up, searching for any form of weakness. Wilson sunk further into the booth.

"Well, who would have known! Now what would they be doing out so late when they're supposed to be at the hospital in four hours?"

"Why, I don't know Cuddy," they continued, keeping up the charade of unknowing innocence. From tone, to stance, to expression, it was clear. They might have well just have written on their foreheads. _Wilson, you're __**D.E.A.D**_. "Maybe we should ask them?"

Silence. It was uncomfortable; both pairs of fiendish blue eyes focused solely on the horrified oncologist and diagnostician. Wilson and Chase exchanged a quick glance; this was it. They had played with fire, they were gonna get burned; he shot one more glance House's way; by the devil itself it seemed.

"Uh...you see...,"bless the young Aussie for being good enough speak first. Diverting the slavering beasts rage from himself to the unwitting young man. Bless innocence and the stupidity traveling hand in hand with it. "We were just about to leave for work, get there early you see, get caught up on some paper work, ya know..."

Cuddy raised one dark brow sinisterly, not buying the clumsy lie. "Uh-huh. Just the two of you? Where's Cameron?"

"Uh..."

"Because last we saw her she was hog tied in Wilson's apartment with a fourth of my paperwork..."

Chase's eye slid seethingly from the smug duo to Wilson, righteous furry burning deep within them. "You said she'd be safe."

He shrugged. "I say a lot of things. Half of them are screwy."

Everyone nodded sadly. House broke the silence, "And there is the matter of you gathering my ducklings and setting them against me..."

"Uh..."

"Cuddy, what do Deans to renegade oncologists...?"

She looked confused for a minute, staring up at the far taller man in obvious curiousity, pulling her upper torso away from him a tad in order to stare into his eyes. Getting no answer she continued lamely,"Actually...we never prepared for something like this...so there really is no punishment..."

House leveled a glare upon her, throwing his arm dramatically in the air. "Oh come on, you couldn't have come up with something! Invoking fear! That's what your supposed to be doing!"

"Well maybe it was your moronic question...!"

"There was nothing moronic about my question just your lame ass answer!" he snarled back; their rage had once again been redirected. This time at each other.

Once again Wilson and Chase exchanged devious little sidelong glances. Twas' time.

"Is your chest the only part of you that's well endowed!? ((A.N. Heh...here's my dedication to Tales Of Symphonia. Yup. Gotta have one of these somewhere in the story...)) "You could have made something up easily! Put that fiendish mind of yours to work!"

"Oh, shift the blame on..." she paused mid rant, staring pointedly at the booth the prisoners had recently sat in. It was...empty. "Uh...House..."

"I'm telling you, be more creative..."

"House..."

"You could be so good at being evil..."

"HOUSE!" He paused, looking none to pleased at being interrupted. "They're gone."

The feud was put on pause as both combatants stared at the booth as though the sheer force of their glares would cause the recently escaped renegades to reappear. They didn't. Somewhere along the line of their heated argument they had managed to slip by undetected and unharmed...

House turned her, arms crossed over his chest. "This is _soooo_ your fault, Cuddles."

Cuddy balled her fist, clenching it so tightly that the entirety of her hand turned an ashen color, nails digging painfully into the soft skin.

This was gonna be a long night...

* * *

Sky: It is done. Took forever, but its done. Sorry everyone that it took so long to update; I just kind of...took a break. And then I found that when I came back I had stopped at a sucky place and it was really hard to write and get back into the style I've been doing this plucky little tale in. So, this chapter probably wasn't as good as the others as I was kind of off my game. But next chapter, that one will be good! Lots of Huddy-ness is gonna be going on...

Huddy: RESULTS WOMAN!

Sky: (glares, but slips back into her Ryan impersonation) House, Cuddy, after polling the readers and making you wait in horrid trepidation...we have the results...

House: Wait for it...

Sky: Which will be coming next chapter.

Cuddy: YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!

Sky: Just kidding. (Shivers under glares) You'll all be pleased to know that House and Cuddy will "get it on" later in the story. Near the end probably. Until then you will all have to be content with the flirting. Sorry. (bows) Till next chapter guys! As always, review please! When you review it makes me want to update, so...review, review, review and I'll update fast, fast, fast!

Cuddy: That was creative.

Sky: Shut up.


	7. Chapter 7: To The Lair!

Sky: This is going to amaze you all but, I'm updating! YEY! And you know what, I wouldn't be if some of you glorious folks hadn't sent me some very nice, prodding notes. Thanks you guys! Next time however, feel free to poke me with a good ol' fashioned sharp stick. It seems to work better. MedicGirl, thank you for your clever idea, the chapter wouldn't have come together without that _marvelous_ torture device! Just to make this chapter worth the wait, I added a bit of, ahem...extra Huddy to this. Enjoy!

Cuddy: Sky does not own House. If she did, Huddy would be a cannon pairing and you'd likely only get half a season of shows. She'd be to lazy to write the other half.

Sky: HEY!

**Chapter Seven: To The Lair!**

The duo stood confused for a moment, the playful breeze flowing in through the still open door whipping their hair teasingly about. Cuddy stared at the booth in distress, her mind still hurriedly trying to fathom how they possibly could have possibly managed to sneak by. House watched in idle amusement, leveling a smugly triumphant smirk in her direction, as though this twist of fate was her fault. Arrogant moron. "House, stop ogling me."

He smiled, choosing this moment to admire the polished handle of his cane, twirling it expertly around while he talked. A show of arrogance apparently. Cuddy was one of the few who knew him well enough to deduce it was nothing more then a nervous reaction. He was unsure of his next words.. "Nonsense Cuddles, I finished staring at your fine ass hours ago. My mind was on more ahem, business like matters; just thought you should know your short sided, violent temperament has actually worked to our benefit. First time for everything, had to come around sooner or later."

She sighed; the days events were beginning to take their toll on her nerves and perceptive powers. If this lasted much longer she wouldn't be able to formulate suitably snappish responses to his remarks. "Is this one of your idiotic, psychopathic rants that I pretend to understand but never actually do?"

"Most likely."

She nodded, pursing her lips, "Then carry on."

"Good, you see, before he left, you managed to piss off Chase. I may not be one of knightly valor..."

Cuddy snorted, something akin to mirth dancing in her eyes, "House you wouldn't touch knightly valor with a forty foot pole..."

"Shut up. As I was saying," she shrugged; a lame apology. " you did manage to get him all worried about his damsel in distress and all that crap. So, in light of that, even though they ran away, logic dictates it would be in their best interests to return to..."

"Wilson's apartment!" She exclaimed. "We can get there in time if we..."

House smirked, draping an overly familiar arm over her shoulders for the second time that night. This time it was not out of mirth, or just a longing to touch her; this time it was an iron vice, forcefully holding her back. Damn him. "Hold it babe. As excited as you are to fry Wilson, we got a little something to pick up first, a little uh...present, if you will," except the exact opposite. If House had thought of it...chances were it was going to be far from pleasant. "Come Cuddy! To the lair!"

"Oh good, because that sounds perfectly sane!" Not that she could really protest; he _had_ sparked her curiosity.

_And_ was significantly stronger then her. Which would make escaping awkward. And unpleasant. And generally bad. She made a mental note to stop letting House drag her down into his vortex of insanity. Because her last one obviously hadn't done the job.

_In the car..._

It had occurred to her, somewhere along the line, that a doctor having a lair might have been considered a little on the strange side. But then she remembered it was House; normal was to House as evil was to Cameron. Clever analogy? No. Suitable? Yes. Because of this it didn't seem quiet so shocking. Why, after all, shouldn't he have a nice underground hideout to plot against the rest of mankind? He couldn't stow deadly diseases in his office desk forever, now could he? Insanity.

On the bright side, an evil genius was showing her his lair. The potential blackmail was endless. And so, in light of that, Cuddy relaxed into her chair, allowing herself to catch a few fleeting moments of sleep. House was at the wheel. Which made being unconscious all the more desirable..

_And later, at the "lair"..._

"This," Cuddy gestured wildly to everything around her. Crap, crap, crap and...more crap, all strewn haphazardly around a store hardly larger then her own office. If this was were House spent his free time she was giving him more clinic duty, "is your lair?"

"Yup."

"But it's so...crappy."

He grinned. "Exactly! Crappy is exactly what we need. Now search for whatever marvelous piece of garbage look like it could double as a torture device." Oh good, that wasn't cryptic at all. Hmmm...jagged piece of plastic, did that count as a torture device? She was sure she could jam it in a few places that would prove torturous.

Better not to risk it. She grabbed his arm, "And what would that look like exactly?"

House sighed, his breath heavy, expression dour as he grabbed her shoulders, drawing her into a huddle of sorts. "I don't know." He took a deep, overly exaggerated breath.

She clasped his arms just as tightly before he could turn away. "If you knew what we were doing, would you tell me?"

"No, but I might make some lewd comment about your breasts."

"Close enough."

With that she was turned loose (well, she turned him loose), left to carouse the rows and rows of afore mentioned crap thrown into disorganized piles all about the small shop. Jagged metal, musical instruments, needles...ooh needles! No, to obvious; she set the syringe down with the slightest hesitation. She sighed; and to think, she could be sleeping...or strangling the head of oncology, right now. Aw, to dream.

"Oh Cuddles!" The diagnostician called, voice sing song, breaking her momentary reverie. "I have found what we seek."

Cuddy shook her head, mildly perplexed, "Only you House, only you could find a torture device hidden in a pawn shop."

She was ignored. The diagnostician's gaze was set unwaveringly towards an object lost somewhere in front of them hidden either deep in a pile of junk or beneath the clouded glass. Neither looked promising. He turned, grinned and called out to the teller in German, asking him to fetch...whatever it was he wanted.

Again, the woman was puzzled. "What are you getting?"

"What do you think I'm getting?" He repeated perkily.

"Are you repeating me?"

"Yes, I thought that was obvious."

"House," she growled.

"Cuddy," he growled back.

She rolled her eyes, shrugging. "God knows your mature..."

"He knows parts of you certainly are..."

She sighed. Lewd comment about her breasts. She had been warned. "Will you at least tell me what you got?"

As if on cue, the little shop keeper reemerged from the depths of the pile of trash House had sent him exploring in, pieces of debris caught in his matted hair. He smiled pleasantly (or as pleasantly as a man lacking teeth _can _smile), took the money from the doctors hand, and sent what looked to be a...

A metronome, one the counter. She turned on him, "That," she leveled an accusing finger on the antique...thing. It wasn't _really_ an instrument and wasn't _really_ a torture device...perhaps it fell under the instruments of torture sub category...one could never know. "Is your plan? The giant piece of plastic would have been more effective!" Of course, that wasn't _really_ true either. How many times had her cousins, sadistic little hellions!, locked her in the hall closet as a child, with one of those infernal time bombs sitting right outside the door, just out of reach? Too damn many! Subconsciously she massaged her temples; a metronome _was_ a time bomb; it was just the brain that did the exploding.

Come to think of it, that had happened to her once in college right after she talked back to...

She leveled a dark glare upon his person. noting his mock-sheepish grin.

"You remember...?"

"Yup."

"And you're...?"

"Yup."

He smiled, shoving the evil (and it _was_ evil) contraption into her arms, shrugging. "Old tricks are the best tricks, eh Cuddy?"

Her glare did not come close to softening. "For your sake, you better hope so." Of course, she already knew it was going to work, so the threat was mostly for theatrical effect. Inwardly however, she sighed, wondering if they should carry through with this. Did she want revenge? Of course but...

Having _four_ mad doctors on her pay roll was hardly an encouraging prospect...

_Meanwhile, the conspirators had made it to Wilson's Hotel mostly unscathed...physically that was...the same could not be said for their mental state..._

"You promised me she would be safe..."

Wilson clutched his head in his hands, trying desperately to done out the young Australian's protests. Apparently he believe that if he repeated the phrase enough he could undo all the damage done to his girlfriend and live happily ever after.

_Fat chance_. Now that they knew, he had little doubt that House and Cuddy would go out of their ways to ruin their lives. At least until they gave up and let them go back to bickering and/or mauling one another. Which was massively unpleasant for everyone anyway.

"Yes I did say that. But she wasn't. Now could we hurry up and rescue her before the two hell spawns previously known as my friends arrive?" And with that little bit of encouragement, the diagnostician took off. _Fabulous_.

"Chase, wait up!" Wilson should have known better then to call out after the young man, or mention his lady love come to think of it. The love lourn sod was focused solely on rescuing his damsel while the dragon (The monster of their own creation, a thing which he had affectionately dubbed, Huddy) lurked around the corned, waiting to chomp them.

Of course, failing slaying the mythical demon (which they had), one could simply run from it. Or beg. Both of which would prove remarkably difficult all things considered. So the oncologist simply trailed along behind, hoping that, if Huddy did appear and wreak bloody havoc upon them, that he could use Chase's love lourn _corpse _as a human shield. A sound plan; he followed safely behind.

The two burst into the bedroom and lo! There, hog tied, lay an unpleasantly aggravated Cameron, her normally pretty features contorted in annoyance. "Mmi mph!" She said with gusto.

"Don't worry, I'll get you out of there!" The Australian declared bravely though he was eyeing her bonds with significantly less confidence. Not knowing were to start, he settled for the next best thing. Start tugging randomly on ropes. A dark glare Cuddy would have envied descended upon the chivalrous young man not only bringing his frantic efforts to a jarring halt but causing him to take a few steps back.

"Here, let me," Wilson didn't even bother trying the ropes; Chase had screwed them so badly that nothing short of a knife was going to make them give way. He could however remove the gag.

Luckily the knot holding that in place was not half so secure and came free with minimal prodding. The young woman responded by gasping for air.

"Crap!" She gasped, clutching at the oncologist's shirt.

Wilson eyed her, removing the offended fabric from her death grip. "Yes, our situation is bad..."

The door slammed shut with an ominous clang, the low, hollow sound reverberating through the room with extra emphasize on the _ominous_.

Chase stared for a moment then, smiling cheekily, said "Oh, you meant trap! Coming in here was a..." he did a double take. "Oh..."

She glared, "No duh." Chase and Wilson exchanged horrified looks.

"Greetings all my merry little conspirators!"

Had there been any suspicions as to who had cause this travesty it was answered with that simple phrase and/or terminology. Few had the nerve to call the oncologist or the ducklings anything but their surnames for fear of aggravating House. And since the chances of House being terrified of House were minimal, that wasn't exactly going to help matters.

"House, let us out right now!"

"Sorry, can't do. Lost the key."

"Cuddy," Wilson amended. "Open the door." No response. Cameron looked rather put off by the mere mention of the Dean's name. It was obvious that it had not been House tying those infernally tight ropes. Or else she was just pissed that the woman had suddenly monopolized House's attention.

Chase shot him a suspicious look. "She was pretty annoyed when we last saw her, experience tells me she's not gone home to sip tea and write out our Christmas bonus."

"More likely she's waiting out there with an axe," Cameron muttered, massaging her offended wrists. Question answered.

Wilson glared. "How could you say that?" The young woman offered an apologetic shrug, "She's much more likely to be waiting out there with a shot gun. More carnage."

"One way to find out," The Australian doctor punched in a number on his phone.

"To see if she's got a shotgun?"

Seconds later a ring from outside the wooden prison answered. "What do you want?" a distinctly feminine (but more distinctly irritated) voice demanded. The sound of the afore mentioned voice shooing a more distinctly annoying person on the other end of the line was very clear.

The young man paled. "She answered!"

"Then talk!"

"Uh," he stammered, "We were just wondering if you guys could find the decency to uh...let us out and stuff," the other two rolled their eyes in exasperation.

There was a pause, as though the two hell spawns were conversing with each other. "Okay," she declared perkily, "I back. And House says no. We're not letting you out apparently." Another pause, followed by sounds of struggle, static, smacking and the phone changing hands... "_Hey_...!"

"Ya, Chase, give the phone to Wilson." Ever the suck up (of course, House couldn't see him, which made the whole sucking up thing useless, old habits die hard, I suppose) he handed the phone to Wilson. "House wants to talk to you."

The oncologist took the phone, offering a quick "hi" as an apology; it fell on def ears. "Wilson, turn your attention to the door. Do you hear that sound?" On cue, a slow, measured ticking commenced...tick...tick...tick... "That, my friend, is the sound of your impending doom...relish it!" And with that House hung up.

_Tick...tick...tick...__**UGH**_

"Don't worry guys, we're just trapped in a room. We can survive a few hours till Forman drops by." Tick...tick...tick...

It didn't take long for them all to decide that it would be far to slow to wait for Forman, the metronome would drive them mad long before that.

Cameron squirmed uncomfortably beside Chase, her eyes darting from the door to each of the men. "How long has it been," she moaned.

"Why does it matter, time ceases here in the seventh circle of hell."

Chase glanced down at his watch. "Ten minutes."

"Till we escape?"

"No, that's how long we've been in here. Ten minutes."

"Crap."

_Meanwhile..._

Cuddy bit her lip, shooting a discrete glance over at the cripple sitting in the passenger seat of her car, an amused gin on his face. He obviously was still pleased about his move on the conspirators, clever and devilish as it had been. Still, the Dean of Medicine smiled to herself; if things went according to planned and, knowing House, they would, she would have her own more subtle revenge on them in the morning.

The light turned green and she turned towards her home instead of heading straight, towards the hospital. House turned to her, one brow slightly elevated. "Cuddy, let me be the first to say that, I, among other things, have never doubted your sense of direction. But, unless you've relocated in the past few hours, my innate sense of fiendish energy says your particular layer of the abyss is straight ahead."

She rolled her eyes, "Yes House, the HOSPITAL is that way."

"As is my bike..."

"But as we're not going there..."

He stared for a moment, "Which means I'm not going home. And from the streets I'm guessing that would mean we're going..."House's grin spread to his ears as their true destination set in, everything him suddenly screaming smug superiority. "To your house!"

"It's just more efficient! It'll save us both an unnecessary trip..." she protested. He simply chuckled to himself, staring out the window as they pulled up to her drive way.

Was she being stupid? Probably. Was she going to regret this? Gods yes.. Still, it felt far from uncomfortable as she invited him to stay the night for the second time in the last...two days. . With a grand flourish, he motioned for her to lead and, for once, she didn't argue. House followed right on her heels,, coming to drape an arm over he shoulders, still cackling to himself. "A night with a mortal, such a scandal. What will yours underlings think of this, fiendish one?"

"The imps don't need to know about my spelunking..."

"And somehow I'm thinking they will. Mortal nailing a demon babe. Big news. Lots of gossip."

"How mature of you. To bad, you want the demon. I get awful lonely in here, all alone. I was hoping you might want to join me...but if you want the succubus..."

"You suck at this Cuddy," he sighed, holding out his hands. "Give me a pillow, I'll sleep on the couch this time."

She smiled. "Smooth move House, you're back in my good graces. Get into bed already," she crawled in, not waiting for him to make up his mind. Exhaustion was once again taking precedence over good manners. After a moment he joined her.

"Hey Cuddy..."

This time she let out a little whimper. "House, I swear to god, if you keep talking you're going to be sleeping in the dog house."

He paused. "While I'm sure that's a fabulous threat in Cuddy land it's offset by the little fact that you don't own a dog...a dog house would just be impractical..."

"I'll improvise. What do you want?"

"I just thought you should know that if the imps do find out..."

"House, if the imps find out, I'll be returning a certain mortal back to earth lacking a few choice appendages. Now shut up, before I sick Cameron on you..."

"Again, the reasonability of that statement..."

Cuddy grabbed his shirt, tugging him into her, lips crushing his in a forceful kiss, cutting off whatever rant he had planned to embark on. She allowed it to continue for another moment, savoring the taste of his lips, enjoying the pressure of his body so close to hers...

She disengaged, rolling back to her own side of the bed. "You talk less when your mouth is otherwise occupied..."

This time it was she who was cut off, lips again captured. He glanced down at her, grinning in the dark, "You are ice woman."

Her arms twined around his neck, she allowed herself to smile, nibbling his lower lip,

"Shut up House."

"Yes, mistress."

Cuddy just rolled her eyes, pulling him back to her.

Sky: Hopefully that was worth the wait, an extra long Huddy-ish fest. I'm going to fight through my writers block and try to get the next chapter out in two or three days. So review, if you want to know what happens next.

House: Ya and until then, Cuddy and I will be out getting uh..._lemons_.

Sky: ...

Cuddy: Uh...review...

Sky: (whimpers)...my braaaaain...


	8. Chapter 8: Fun with Fox and Dana

Sky: Oh yeah! You didn't really think I'd keep my word did ya!? Well here's the next chapter, three days later! SWEET! Anyway, I suppose this doesn't really have much to do with the main plot of the story, considering it's a bit less daring and foreword then leading an assault on Wilson's apartment but hey, an M.D has to have a break/do his job sometime. Enjoy, I loved writing this one.

Sky: sighs I don't own House. The characters would tell you but they're still out getting shivers _lemons_.

**Chapter 8: Fun with Fox and Dana!**

"Just walk away Foreman, just walk away..."

Yes, that was indeed what the dearly loved (mostly by himself) neurologist kept muttering to himself as Wilson's door loomed on the horizon, all dark and ominous.

People thought pure evil was harnessed within a person, but Foreman knew, he knew, that wasn't true. Pure evil was that door. As soon as he opened the damn thing his life would go back to being a carnival or crazies. Crazies! And the the three ring leaders were right inside!

But, of course, the advise was good. So he obviously didn't heed it. Because that would be beneficial, and anything beneficial was _obviously _bad. So, not minding the danger or his own advice, he opened the door, kicking aside an odd ticking device that had been placed directly in front of it.

"Guys? Where are you?" He took two steps inside the darkened room and...

Fell flat on his face. "Alright, what just tripped me!?"

"My leg, idiot!"

"Chase?"

"Sure, he really needs to ask," Wilson muttered, voice dry, "Because House has _legions_ of

Australian underlings conspiring against him..."

Someone in the room shrugged," You never know."

"I do; whoever said that's a moron."

Cameron kicked him in the shin, "I did."

The oncologist kicked back, "You wanna go little girl...!?"

Why? Why hadn't he just walked away from it all when he had a chance? That ticking contraption must have gotten to them. It had been nearly three hours since their call so exposure should have been limited...

It obviously had not been. So, his mission complete, Foreman settled down beside Chase (who was still massaging his offended leg diligently), content to sit back and watch WWC 3. (One would wonder why it was not simple World War 3; it is because dear readers, WWC is actually translated to Wilson Whips Cameron, just thought you should know, enjoy!) The two previous battles had been fabulous entertainment.

Chase leaned over towards him, his voice quiet amidst the yelling. "I just thought I should say thank you for getting me out of there. Those two were almost worse then the metronome."

Despite his candor, he did not get much of a response. The other man was to rapt up in the soon to be brawl. "Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it. Are we done now? They're almost ready to fight." The Australian sighed, shrugging his shoulders in defeat.

Indeed it had nearly come to blows. Not because they were simply so furious that they lacked the ability to formulate suitable responses, but more along the line of they had run out of clever witticisms. House and Cuddy they were not! And so, as the two descended on each other...

Wilson's phone rang. He sent Cameron an apologetic look. "Mind if I take this one?"

She waved it off graciously, "Oh no, of course not. Be my guest."

The two diagnosticians sitting huddled in the corner could only roll their eyes at the civility of the battle. Where was the blood? The carnage? Wilson flipped open his phone after a quick (and pleasant) "thank you" passed between him and the woman, "Wilson here."

"Doctor Wilson?" Came a small, timid voice, more suited to a mouse...or **pigeon**!, then a person. "I uh...we uh..._Brenda_ just wanted to know when you were coming in...no rush and stuff but..."

He cut the samll voice off mid- sentence, probably scarring the timid nurse for life. "What are you talking about? I took the day off. And last I checked, House's people did too." None of the three mentioned peoples seemed overly pleased at _who_ they had to be mentioned with to be recognized.

"But Doctor Cuddy, said you'd be filling in for her today! And House's people are assigned to clinic all day! H...how soon can you get in? Things are pretty hectic are here without..."

"Yeah, yeah, without Cuddy," he sighed. It wasn't the nurses fault. It was that she-devil he'd called a friend. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

Closing the phone, Wilson could do naught but massage his temples, trying to fight off a migraine. He turned to the other three glumly, "You'll never guess what I just heard..."

_Meanwhile..._

There is a sound in this world that can make one's very soul quail. A sound, so terrifying, so otherworldly, you can naught but lie there pretending to play dead. Cuddy herself was lying in wait for just that very sound, preying that, if she remained still enough, it might pass over them. Slowly her mental clock clicked down, eminent doom only half a step behind.

Angry at this deception, the sleeping (though she suspected the nasty little bugger hardly needed sleep) beast awoke with a vengeance, filling the bedroom with it's high pitched wail, over and over again. Cuddy felt her stomach churn, her head pounding in agony as the sound reverberated against the sides of her skull. She was to tired, far to tired, to fight it right now. Not that fighting ever really helped; the hell spawn would be there to torture her likewise the next morning.

The curvature of the bed shifted as the body beside her squirmed, fighting to get comfortable. It huffed irritably, icy eyes glaring down the best lurking behind her. Finally, the sound became to much for the man; House half lifted himself from the bed, leaning over her to reach the creature. Unfortunately, this shift in weight annoyed the bed, which just wanted the damn humans to stay _still_, so it sent Cuddy rolling towards his knee's where the weight was greatest. Not expecting the impact, it caused the man to collapse over the afore mentioned Dean, which, although not uncomfortable, made him fell well short of the monster, who was now howling fits of uncontrollable laughter.

The Dean shoved at him, lovely face contorted in aggravation. "Get _off_," she ordered breathlessly, still feebly pushing at him (well...smacking him, it is notoriously hard to shove someone off when their on your back). Her efforts had weakened severely however; the man was wonderfully warm which was a welcome remedy to the cold air filling the room.

Now really wasn't the time for nasty little thoughts like that however. House was struggling to get free of the sheets with reckless abandon, shoving the filmy piece of fabric away. Each effort only managed to get him more and more tangled up however, till eventually he was forced to quit, completely...stuck, his upper torso still resting on her back, one elbow supporting his face so he might glare at the beast while the other tapped methodically against her exposed skin.

Cuddy just laid there, annoyed and bored. She couldn't really do much else really. House had managed to get HER legs tangled in the sheets as well and had her pinned. She tried to sigh but simple couldn't inflate herself enough to get the right effect.

"Cuddy?"

"Yes, House?"

"I think we're stuck."

"Wow. I didn't get that from you laying on top of me," she muttered crankily."

So they simply laid there, the monster still shrieking not four feet from them, taunting them with each passing moment. Five more such moments and House was squirming again, this time towards the end of the bed. With a yelp of truimph (or perhaps shock) he tumbled off, taking the entire sheet with him. Cuddy uttered a yelp of her very own, though hers was more out of surprise as the entire room full of could air assaulted her now defenseless (cough cough uncovered) body.

The lump of sheets slunk around to were the beast lurked, watched, waited and...

SMASH! Their tormentor went sailing through the air, landing with a pathetic whine against the far wall, where it whimpered and then spoke no more.

Victorious, the cripple clambered back in bed, drawing the sheet back over himself and his most grateful damsel, who had once more cuddled up to him.

Something, hung in the air however, as though something desperately needed to be said. And finally, it was Cuddy who came forward. "You could have just pushed the sleep button you know."

The shame!

Hours later (when the monster dared not show it's ugly neon face) they awoke again. Well...House awoke. Cuddy had long since arisen, leaving only a pile of crumpled sheets to mark her passing. Which meant it was time for him to get up and busy. Rising (with a reasonable amount of pain and thus, cursing) he cast about for his Vicodin. The much needed pills were already out set out on the nightstand for him, along with his clothes (which he would never have found as they seemed to have been strewn all over the place) minus his shirt. He considered searching for the lost garment but knew better. It it wasn't there; Cuddy had most likely burned it. To bad.

So he went topless, following his nose in the direction of food, which would no doubt lead to the shirt burner. It was strange wandering down the halls of his bosses home unattended; more because he was rather...lost, then anything else. Unfortunately, Cuddy had lots of food-y type smells scattered around the place, making pinning her location difficult. After running afoul of yet another scented candle he simply headed for the kitchen.

And do you know, dear readers, what he found? Nothing other then his shirt! On _Cuddy_! "Okay," he demanded, strolling casually into the kitchen, voice causing the woman to jump, "Explain the logic of your thievery to me."

Amazingly, she was able to deduce that he was referring to the shirt. "I'm wearing your shirt, so what?"

"It's _mine_, that's what!" He protested pretending to reach for a slice of bacon she'd retrieved from the microwave, stopping to slosh some water down the front of the garment when she swatted at his hand.

Her lips pursed as though she was thinking over the most unpleasent way to punish him.

"So you want your shirt back?"

"Yes." Cuddy glared but grabbed the hem of the garment as thought to remove it. He was shocked. "You're gonna _cook _naked?"

For the first time since he'd showed up to crash her date with Don, he saw her face twist in revulsion. "I'll give it back when I'm done cooking then..."

"You're gonna _eat_ naked?"

She sighed, "You can have it back when I've finished my shower."

"Which you do naked."

"Dear god, House."

Breakfast went by without event, the two barely talking. It was amazing how much thinking one could do in the absence of noise. And House was thinking. Thinking of those sorry sap Ducklings in the clinic doing his work for him, thinking of ways to get his shirt back (or get another one as Cuddy seemed loath to relinquish her control over it), and perhaps how to get home...

His motorcycle of course! He could get on his motorcycle, ride home, get a shirt and...

Crap. He'd left it at work. Where he was not supposed to be. And where the ducklings would catch him if he dared venture within. "Cuddy, we've got a problem."

She rolled her eyes, "House, I'll give you the shirt back!"

He shook his head, "No, not that." She look oddly relieved. "I just remembered I left my bike at the hospital. And my keys are in the desk..."

Cuddy flashed him a pearly grin he'd seen only in the mirror. On his own face. That she was now emulating his emotions was...disturbing. "Don't worry, I've got an idea..."

First time for everything he supposed. After a moment of heated arguing however, he too was grinning that same grin. This was going to be to easy.

The hospital door swung open, as it does thousands of time each day, framing a couple, newlyweds one could only guess from the way they clung to each other. Nurse Brenda eyed them cautiously as the woman signed in, assuring her husband she wouldn't be long. _Sickening_.

"I'm so sorry," the newlywed gushed to her, her accent strange. There seemed a bit to much emphasis on the "_s_". She handed the elegantly written form to the nurse, smiling pleasently, eyes hidden beaneath dark sun glasses. Fox and Dana...Sculder. The hell? Why would you marry into that? Brenda shrugged and motioned the woman take a seat.

There was something odd about the couple...besides their freakish last name of course.

Dana settled down beside her husband, clasping his calloused hand in her more own delicate one. "You're scheduled for a checkup, for your leg. I'll go look for Doctor House while you're in there."

"What about you?" He whispered harshly, squeezing her hand, "It looks...suspicious, you running around without any medical business."

She smiled, kissing his cheek quickly. "Apparently, I have a cold. I'll get it checked out when you're done." They sat in blissful silence for a few more minutes, waiting for his name to be called.

"Fox Sculder," one of the doctors asked, glancing about the area. Leaning heavily on his wife, the duo managed to get into the examine room. Dana only caught the first few words of the conversation before she slid out, "I'm Doctor Foreman. Now, your file says you've got a broken ankle..."

_Fabulous. _

Fueled by her purpose (and the general desire to not get caught), Dana snuck up the stairs, taking great pains to avoid detection. It would have been far simpler to use the elevator but...she couldn't exactly go parading around the hospital. Without the proper identification she'd be dragged back to the lobby kicking and screaming.

Security seemed to be lax however and she was not detained, easily able to slip into the office she sought. It wasn't locked and the glass doors opened with ease, revealing the fabled hide out of the legendary doctor. She had little time to gawk however, someone could drop by any moment now and getting caught would be...awkward. With enviable stealth, the woman slid around the corner of the desk, fumbling through the drawers in search of one particular item. Unfinished paper work filled each and every drawer, pens stolen from the clinic, sucker...hundreds of paper clips? What did House do with his free time? She stored the question away for another time, continuing her quest. Not in there. Dana allowed herself an agitated sigh, glaring at the thinking ball on the corner of the desk, simply because it was there to distract her.

And there, beside's the must lauded ball, was the her objective, glittering innocently in the sun, unmarred and shiny. "There you are," she muttered, her fingers closing around the cool surface, slipping them quickly into one of her pants many pockets. Now just to get back to the clinic...

"Can I help you?"

Somehow she wasn't surprised someone had finally caught her. The woman put on her most ravishing smile, turning to face the intruder with enviable poise. It was in fact, House's best friend, a Doctor Wilson. And she didn't miss the way his eyes roved down her generous figure, something akin to curiosity dancing in his dark eyes. As though he may have known her, but couldn't place from where.

"I was actually just looking for Doctor House. The nurse down stairs said this would be the best place to find him," she kept up her smile, shifting coquettishly from foot to foot.

He gave her a knowing grin, "I'm sure she did. Unfortunately, he's not in today. M...maybe I could help you though?"

"Actually...it's my husband. He needs his leg looked at..." the oncologists face fell. Husband, she had a husband. Suddenly he didn't seem half so interested in her case becoming more businesslike. Namely, the business of getting her out of the office. Which she was more then happy to go along with.

"Well," he called out after her, "I'll be sure to pass that along to him...uh, what's you name?"

"Dana," she called back, waving cutely before disappearing completely behind the elevator doors. Both individuals heaved a sigh of relief for their own reasons.

Down below, Fox was waiting for her outside the exam room, hastily beckoning to her. Getting the item had taken longer then she had expected; she was late for her checkup. Without pausing to offer him any consolation or even a quick high, she slid inside, quickly clambering up on the table, content just to wait. And wait. And wait, for her doctor. This was gonna be a long experience.

_Ten minutes later..._

Despite the stylish flare the pants gave to her image, they did little when it came to fending off the cold. And right now she was sitting on the cold. Which wasn't pleasant.

"Hello there Dana," oh crap. Chase, it was Doctor Chase. Of all the doctors working the clinic, she had gotten him. God seemed to have a sense of humor. She flashed him a stunning smile, pausing in her vain quest to get comfortable; he smiled back, sliding into an available chair. "Your chart says you're here for a cold?" Nod. "Alright, let's do all the routine stuff first. If you could remove your glasses for me..."

_15 min after that..._

He was bored. Yup. That was about it. People watching was only entertaining for so long, and right now, it was not...entertaining. At all.

So Fox simply sat, sucking a cherry flavored sucker he had commandeered from the counter when Brenda had her back turned away. One of the children had eyed it jealously, obviously not brave enough (or stupid enough) to try and snatch his own. Good; that left more for him. All he had left to do was wait for Dana to get done; then they could go home and plan some more.

On cue, Dana scurried out the exam room with an obviously fake smile, her cheeks flushed bright red from embarrassment. She quickly turned, thanked the starstruck doctor before practically sprinting back to her waiting husband.

If she had looked red from afar she was practically crimson up close, the blush spreading unattractively down her neck to the collar bone and beyond. "I flashed him!" She hissed, so low it was difficult to make out of the noise of the room.

Fox fought to subdue a rebellious smile without avail. "What?"

"I said I flashed him! He wanted me to take of my glasses and I paniked..."

"So you stripped?" He chuckled, only able to imagine the scene. His lovely little wife sitting there all innocent on the table; doctor turns around and BANG! Picture perfect. He wrapped an arm comfortably around her waist. "And here I thought you just reserved the twins for me..."

"Shut up, Fox."

Not far away, Chase watched the couple (Dana, really) depart with a tinge of regret before heading to Wilson's. "You guys won't believe what just happened to me," he didn't even pause to allow them a guess. "So, this woman walks in and I ask her to remove her glasses and, next thing I know, she's got her shirt open and says the problems _in her chest!"_

Foreman uttered a low wolf whistle. "What'd she look like?"

"Oh, I wish you could have seen her. Gorgeous! Beautiful face," for some reason the men were motioning for him to start, but, alas, the young doctor, still mesmerized, could do naught but continue. "Great butt and her breasts..."

"What about her breasts?" a low voice hiss from behind them, a sickly sweetness dripping from the blatently edged tone; sheer malice dipped in honey. A dark cloud seemed to decend upon the otherwise cheery assembly of males, the smell, the taste of impending doom looming all around them. Chase uttered a silent prayer, turning to face the raging beast.

"Well?" Cameron demanded, taking an imposing step foreword. THe men each took a step back, putting as much room as possible between themselves and the monster as humanly possible.

"Uh..."

"Say they were awful," Foreman growled.

"Nothing compared to hers," Wilson agreed.

Alas, the diagnostitian failed to heed the wise advice of his older peers!" I can't say either of those things!" he whispered back, "because they weren't awful and...Cameron really doesn't have much of a chest so..."

"That's why you lie!"

He looked taken aback. "I can't lie to Cameron! Relationships are based on complete and total honesty with one another..."

"Yes, and I'm totally for it. As long as it doesn't get you killed!"

The young woman looked fit to explode, or hit him. Or both. She took another large step towards him, grabbing fistfuls of his lab coat. "What was her name?" Oh good! Much better she hunt the woman down and punch her lights out.

"Dana!" he squeeked.

"Dana?" Wilson looked quizical, "What's she look like? Black hair, leather jacket, glasses..."

"Yeap."

"She stopped by House's office earlier, said she wanted to schedule an appointment for her husband..."

Foreman shook his head. "Not possilbe. The guys just had some swelling on his ankle. Nothing serious."

The oncologist's eye widened a comical amount. "Oh. My. God. She wasn't there for an appointment at all she was taking...argh!" He grabbed the files makred "Fox and Dana Sculder". And was instantly mortified. "Wha...Brenda do you even read these?!" The nurse barely looked up.

"No." Okay then...

He scanned the page, praying he didn't fine exactly what it was he feared. Of course, he preyed he wouldn't find it, he obviously did. There, in the comments box, it lay, like a sleeping monster. "_You lose, Jamesy_."

Foreman grabbed the other folder, finding the same note. Suddenly it dawned upon them, and he laughed, leveling an accusing finger at Chase, "You mean you actually examined..."

If Cameron had been mad before, she was livid now. She shoved the Australian, rounding on him furoiously, "You got flashed by..."

Cuddy finally slid the glasses off her face, setting them inside the panama she had been wearing.

"Keys?" House asked, shedding his own shades in exchange for his bike helmet. Fumbling around in her pocket for a moment she finally managed to produce the pesky piece of metal, tossing it across to him. He frowned. "And her I was hoping you'd be hiding them in your bra. Oh...but then Chase would have seen them, wouldn't he?"

She climbed onto the bike behind him, clutching him tightly becuase, not only was she deahtly afriad, both of the bike and its riders questionable skills, but, if it came down to it, this was the easiest position for strangling him.

"So did you just give him a peak?" No response. "You showed him it all?!" He looked torn between mirth and jealousy.

"Yes House," she muttered sorrowfully.

The sound of the bikes ignition fill the air for a moment, "You know I'm never gonna let you live this down right?"

"Yes House."

And with that they were off.

* * *

House: Fox and Dana Sculder!? Seriously!?

Cuddy: I like it. They sound meant for each other.

House: (rolls eyes) Yeah, and they should have a son named William too. Just go ahead and make your dream complete there, Cuddles.

Sky: Guess they're back from their trip. (sighs) Next chapter up soon.


	9. Chapter 9: A Very Huddy Halloween

House: Welcome to the newest chapter of this crazy...thing. Cuddy is, unfortunately and much to my chagrin, not with us this fine day. She's vested all her time recently in hunting down the an...uh...well I dunno what you can say about it, outfit, in the history of...history. You can all thank Sky for that.

Sky: I just made a suggestion...besides...it'll look good. They kinda have the same build...ish...

House: Wha...how...SHE'S SIX INCHES SHORTER! How could they possibly have the same build?! How could someone so short...

Sky: (glaring) What's wrong with being 5'6!? Nothing! (sighs) You'll all know what we're talking about soon. I don't own House...

House: Thank all and every god! Read on good folk...and then take my side on the outfit.

**

* * *

****Chapter 9: A Very Huddy Halloween**

The next week came and went without event, much to the elation and curiosity of the Princeton Plainsborrow staff. The silent war being wagged between the departments (namely, team Huddy versus team OC ((Organized Chaos, somehow their top secret name had managed to leak out to the common folk) had come to an abrupt end, neither side showing any signs of defeat. Despite the insanity, and the animosity, that had suddenly sprung up between the six doctors, everything went back as it was, neither House or Cuddy paying much heed to the recent (and traitorous) betrayal and/or power play their subordinates had set in motion. House and Wilson returned to being bestest buds, only a slight, almost unseen, tension drifting between them whenever the subject of Cuddy was broached. He (being everyone's favorite arrogant ass) and the Dean went back to their near fatal war of the words (and unlike Cameron and Wilson, never ever ran out of suitable retorts!), forgetting whatever spark of amiability had formed between them recently.

In short, everything was back to normal and that was a comfort to the common worker at the reputable hospital. It is, after all, notoriously difficult to feel secure at work when you spend every minute of the live long day afraid a misdirected quip from one of your superiors may strike you in the back of the head at any given moment. Which, considering the violence and general nastiness of said remarks, was a very good thing to fear. One janitor had been permanently scarred by one House's remarks only days before, so the fear was justified. Technically. Anyway, the monotonous schedule prescribed to each and every employer resumed, free from the chaos of the past week.

A clever ruse. A _very_ clever ruse.

You see, dear readers, it had come to the notice of the doctors that very little was getting done now that their attention seemed to be invested elsewhere. And so, to set the little people to rest, a sort of truce had been called between the warring sects. A one week ceasefire where neither group could make a move on the other. Oh it had been difficult to decide, and was even more difficult to keep up, as each was so pissed with the other that polite conversation was a trial even to fake. Especially when it came to Cameron, who still dearly wished to throttle Cuddy for flashing _her_ "boyfriend." Snappy remarks on this subject were limited for various reasons.

And so, while the civilians slipped back into a placid state of comfort and security, plans were being formed. Dark, devious and generally unpleasant plans that villains from low budget horror movies would envy were taking shape. And whether they came from the now twisted mind of Wilson or the deviously cunning alliance formed between the illustrious Dean of Medicine and her new boy toy (House was loath to discern where the name had sprung forth from), the plans held one thing in common...

The Hallow's Eve Ball.

It was gonna be one _helluva _party.

Had anyone doubted before that this was going to be a momentous occasion, the feeling was instantly dispersed as the double doors to the room flew open, courtesy of the two "zombies" serving as honor guards at the door. Inside, the entirety of the chamber had been redecorated, the whole of the lavish and, unquestionably, gothic, designs virtually recreating what one could imagine some ancient, and hauntingly beautiful, ball room may have looked like. Obviously, for this occasion, Cuddy had hired Count Dracula's personal fashion consultant. Crimson tapestries hung from the walls, the lights set low enough so as to emulate eerie candle light, elegant tables of medieval food set aside at the far corners of the room, the center cleared to form a makeshift dance floor, tiles sparkling immaculately. At the end of the room however, was perhaps the most striking feature, a dais, elevated grandly above the rest of the room, decked out not only in the same crimson draperies but a shimmering golden paint. If anything was going to happen tonight, if the war was going to break into full swing _**again**_, that was where it would happen. Cuddy had prepared well.

Despite all the medieval pleasantries, there still remained the guilty pleasures of modern day. Namely, a bar (if one would brave the ahem...undead, bartender) and a set of poker tables, one of which was set upon the afore mentioned dais. Seats at that one table, grander then the rest, had already been set. The contenders would be...six.

Yup. Devious ain't it?

Well, we are forced to _assume _it's part of some devious master plan. Because, if not, it's just a blatantly obvious attempt to show off. Which shouldn't be put past Cuddy. There's a _reason _she flaunts her ahem...assets.

The guests had already begun filing into the room, each look resplendent in their own costume, be it something ancient and dreadful or a more modern day terror. Together they blurred into one glorious kaleidoscope torrent of colors, some of which so garish they resulted in an instant migraine.

So for fear of migraines, dearest readers, don't stare to long. Seriously.

It was marvelously pleasant, this assembly, guests laughing, swapping tales cheerfully while downing inhuman amounts of alcohol. Alas! Our hero's were not so perky, _forced_ to lurk ominously in the corner, searching for their arch rivals.

Chase was eyeing the bar lustily when Wilson nudged him gracelessly in the ribs, "Where do you think they are?" the oncologist muttered, readjusting his obnoxiously white costume once more. The god damn thing was...itchy.

The Australian turned his attention to the offending party, "Sure, you assume I know just because...w...why do you assume I know...?"

"I don't know, I was hoping you could see something with those _keen_ elven eyes of yours." Chuckles resulted.

Chase was not amused, brushing out some of the wrinkles in his elegant green tunic, "Cameron picked it out for me."

"_Sure_...blame the gay elf costume on your girlfriend. How's Aragorn by the way?"

There was a silence as the afore mentioned "elf" brooded, " Yeah, whatever. At least I didn't come as a psychopathic _**bogus**_ villain." And in the same tone Wilson had used on him before, "How's Austin Power's by the way?" The Doctor Evil impersonator glared.

So, while the duo was waging their own silent battle (but not _really_ silent as the occasional out burst on who could kick who's ass in a fight tended to draw the attention of all in the general vicinity), Cameron and Foreman simply watched and waited for the finale, having returned victoriously from the bar. That was one good thing about Cuddy's party; one never had to worry about the absence of alcohol.

"What's going on here anyway?" Foreman dared to venture, taking another sip of his drink before they could respond. _Everything_ anyone under House's reign of terror said sounded much more sane after consuming alcohol en masse'.

"Wilson was just making fun of my outfit," Chase huffed, giving his long locks an arrogant (but distinctly elven) flick.

Cameron glared the oncologist down. "I picked that out for him."

"Ya, and you're dressed as a Sheppardess. How's your flock Little Bo Peep?" The young woman looked aggravated, straightening her little white dress self consciously. Wilson dared not take it to far however as she did have a pole that was supposedly used for herding. But could also be used for beating renegade oncologists with just as much efficiency.

And so it went. Without Huddy there to distract them, they had a tendency to turn on each other. Which resulted in various forms of bruises that no one was proud of. Especially when said bruises are the result of being beat with a rod by a tiny little woman. Definitely then. So the four, well, three actually, Foreman was still gulping down margarita's as though they were going out of style, simply glared at one another, silent, vengeful.

It was then, the true stars of the show chose to make their entrance. Every sound in the room ceased in one moment, the doors being held grandly open by the zombie dudes at the door, each one gorily impressive. The two beings that stepped through the door were far from this state of macabre however.

They arrived arm in arm, each looking superior to the mortal ilk surrounding them, their steps haughty enough that they could have been the fantastical creatures they were emulating. House appeared dourly handsome in his funeral tailed coat, gold embroidery weaving over the dark, and rather tight(the endocrinologist had obviously had something to do with that, again with the flaunting!), fabric. Cuddy seemed to have talked him in to putting on some eyeliner, amplifying the cold blue of his eyes. So, in short, he looked elegant, handsome and friggin' pissed off that he was here in the first place.

And Cuddy, well...she was...ahem..._interesting_. But no less intriguing, just very...futurey. Yup. _Futurey_. In fact she looked sorta like...Clone Ripley from Alien Resurrection! Yeah! That's how it was! So, the outfit was pretty sweet looking, almost an exact recreation of the dark vest, pants, shoes (though, to be fair, Cuddy fell an _wee_ _bit _short of 6' feet tall so was forced to wear massive stiletto boots while Sigourney had worn _much_ more practical flats. _Damn_ that giant!) She had even gone through the inordinate trouble of doing her hair in the same oily, straggly, I-just-fell-down-another-damn-huge-hole-to-save-that-damn-robot-again, way. All males present drooled.

So...uh...they were a sight. The weird hyrbridy thing and the vampire continued merrily into the room, picking up flute glasses full of (again, to House's chagrin) champagne, before crossing to the brooding figures of their foes.

Suddenly the elf, Sheppard chick and evil doctor didn't seen quiet as interested in one another. Because, now that there was a distraction that they could pick on without worry, no one else really mattered.

Of course, some people mattered to other people more then...other people...? Yes, Cameron had spotted Cuddy (well...technically she had caught Chase averting his eyes guiltily from certain parts of Cuddy) marching towards them, and that was it.

Apparently the other woman realized this as well. Every man within the danger zone took a frantic step back. One pissed female was dangerous, two could _**end the world**_! And so, while the two ladies held a violent (and terrifying!) staring contest to decide which would hold dominance in the metaphorical "pack", the men chatted silently in the corner pausing only to shoot cautious looks at the ladies.

House eyed the young Australian doctor cautiously, "Nice outfit there fairy boy. How's Aragorn?"

"WHY DO PEOPLE KEEP ASKING ME THAT!?" The Aussie's eye twitched dangerously.

"Uh..."

"Uh...don't _uh_ me, you're the one dressed as a gay vampire! With _makeup_!"

Wilson chuckled snidely, "He's got a point you know."

"Shut up, it's flattering."

"That you're gay?" House gave him the evil eye. The men commenced a verbal sparring match while the members of the fairer sex continued their glaring competition. Foreman just kept drinking, not willing to become completely involved in the madness. Sure, he was forced to stay in the Carnival of Crazies but that didn't mean he had to go play in the fun house. So he drank, which was more fun anyway.

"If everyone would take their seats, the poker tournament is about to begin," someone (Wilson was almost positive it was the pigeon/mousewoman that had called him a week ago) announced over the intercom. The chatter in the room stopped obediently as everyone took their seats, and, with as much dignity as they could muster, the six seated themselves atop the dais.

After a hand or two of poker however, their tempers returned to normal. Cuddy started sipping her seltzer water as was her want(though it was well known to everyone that the _real _Ripley would _never_ drink such a vile beverage), House chewed on a cigar, and Wilson...watched.

After one more hand, which Chase has won (for once), the oncologist was forced to lean over towards his friend. "House?"

The older man sighed, "Wilson, I'm busy."

"No you're not."

"Good point. What do you want?"

"I was just wondering why you're so...smiley." Indeed the normally bitter, stoic man was grinning widely. It wasn't friendly however, just a predatory smirk one wears when they have an important secret they're keeping from everyone else.

House's eyes flicked instantly to his friend, an unsettling thing, "If you must know it's because I'm trying to pierce Cuddy's vest with my stare alone. The twins are angry being confined. I'm rescuing them," as though to make his point his gaze settled heavily back on the woman's fully covered chest. She rolled her eyes, accepting it with enviable grace.

"House, seriously."

He sighed, "Fine. Cuddy and I have a bet going." With that he turned his attention back to the game smirking confidently, leaving his friend curious and stupefied.

Wilson accepted the cards the dealer was offering him, "What's it on?"

"We're betting on which one of us wins the game."

"And the prize?"

Here the diagnostician smirked fondly, "If she wins, I do an extra twenty clinic hours..."

"Wow, _creative_."

House nodded, "Adventurous, ain't she? And if I win...we do it in her office." The oncologist cast a glance over to Cuddy, looking for verification. She nodded silently, looking remarkably pleased with herself. As far as dangerous bets went, this one was leaning in her favor. If she won, House did loads of extra works. If she lost, she got sex. Lots of risk involved there. He rolled his eyes, returning his full attention to the game.

Hours passed. And not those friendly hours that pass by without event, sliding pleasantly by without notice. No, these were mean, nebulous, nasty hours that presented themselves slowly and with lots of fighting. The silent war between the two females had picked itself up somewhere along the line, promoting the men to discuss who would win in a fight: Ripley or Sheppard chick. And of course the subject of Ripley brought up the subject of a much loved gay pairing involving the afore mentioned woman, which of course, led to gay jokes involving both Cuddy and Cameron _playing_ as the afore mentioned characters, which led to the afore mentioned _males_ getting smacked with certain Shepparding _poles_. Or getting kicked with some massive stiletto's. Whichever.

Besides _that_, the poker match went without event.

House glanced from his cards to Cuddy, brow furrowed dramatically. Over his shoulder, Wilson, Chase, and Forman stood by expectantly, their breath caught in their throats, fingers crossed. His eyes locked with the Deans, silently challenging the stoic woman. Cameron stood beside the endocrinologist, one hand resting reassuringly on her shoulder. Women, after all, are creatures of mercurial temperaments and combining their strength against the men had formed a bond of awkward companionship between the lovely ladies (which, much to their chagrin, only led to more gay jokes).

This was it. The final hand. House vs. Cuddy. The males stood by their own, jealous that it was not them in his position, but willing to bow so that a fellow male could indulge in the promised pleasures.

And of course, Cameron stood by Cuddy. Mostly because she was pissed at House for allowing her to get tied up and saddling her with so many dieing patients. Plus, she was still _sorta_ mad about all the jokes.

Cuddy flourished her hand spectacularly, black nails glimmering like slick poison in the low light as she spread the cards elegantly across the tables surface. Two aces plus one of the dealers. Three aces total. _Crap_. "You're move House," she settled comfortably back into her chair, exchanging a triumphant glance with her new "underling."

He sighed, "You had to do that didn't you Cuddles? Couldn't just give me an easy win could you?"

"No."

Oh. "Here it goes," slowly, he laid the cards down before her, placing each down with a crushing finality. The men caught their breath.

And Cuddy nearly exploded as the last one hit the table. "You cheated!"

"That's not a nice thing to say Cuddles."

"But it's true."

"Sure, I cheated and now, I'm going to tell you. _Smoooooth_..."

She sighed; she had taken the bet after all. Cameron exchanged a supportive smile with her uneasy ally, offering her a trademark sympathy hug. What she got in return was a glare the devil would have envied. So she hugged her anyway.

Cuddy surrendered herself to the arm of the gloating doctor, hanging her head dejectedly as they left the room (and the sound of Chase and Wilson cheering) behind.

"Are you upset?"

She leveled him with a nasty look. "About getting sex? No. About losing? Yup."

"You would rather win then have sex?" That seemed to surprise him.

"Yes." She sighed, snuggling up to him, "But, as I've already lost, I might as well get something out of it."

He smiled, "That seems fair."

She allowed him to lower her to the couch, nibbling gently on his lips, "One ground rule though..."

"What's that?"

"No calling me Ripley."

"Damn."

That in itself caused her to giggle. Of course, she would have startled giggling _anyway_ as House attempted to undo her vest with little (actually, _no_) success. "Alright, get up Cuddy." She sat up, tapping her foot impatiently as he glared the vest down, fiddling with it. "How do you unhook this thing!?" It occurred to her that she might tell him that it was to be slid _over _ones head and not unhooked but that thought passed as quickly as it came. This was more fun. Muttering darkly to himself after another few minutes of thought, he settled for grabbing the thick piece of fabric and wrenching it over her skull.

She smirked, her fingers playing with the loose strings of his own shirt. "Wow, you figured it out."

"Shut up, it was harder then it looked."

So she laughed, half because of the absurdity of their situation and half because the stubble on his chin was tickling her without mercy.

After a few minutes she chucked a pillow at the lights, extinguishing them completely. She could hear House snicker, "Still worried about preserving your image?"

She tipped his head back, shoving her lips roughly against his as an answer. He smirked, fingering her artificially tousled hair as she undid the ties on his shirt, kissing her forehead gently as she struggled clumsily with the strings in the dark, almost with as much vengeance as he had. Finally she gave up, choosing to tear them instead. The flimsy garment gave way this time.

Of course, had either of them been paying more attention to the events outside they may have heard the ominous sound of clicking heels coming down the hall, followed by a proverbial aura of annoyingness.

The door was thrown open without pretense, "Lisa where are you..."

Both House and Cuddy froze mid make out, still embracing on the couch, eyes fixed horrified upon the silhouette framed in the door way.

"Lisa is that you...?"

* * *

Sky: I wonder who it is...

House: (rolls eyes) You already know who it is.

Sky: Of course **I **do. But _they_ don't. Muahahaha...now, everyone review if you want to know what happens next, or if you just want to know/guess who the new comer is...

House: Yeah! And then tell Sky that Cuddy would not look good as Clone Ripley!

Sky: Uh...I guess you could do that too...(stares) REVIEW!


	10. Chapter 10: The Epitome Of Evil

Sky: Sorry about how long it took to update. School has been evil... but...We return triumphant!

House: (glares) Not entirely triumphant. Cuddy's still wearing that god forsaken outfit...

Sky: It's not _that_ bad...

Cuddy: Seriously!? You guys are still on the outfit?

S,H: Yes.

Cuddy: (sighs) They mean well, really. They're just stupid. Sky does not own us.

Chapter 10: The Epitome of Evil

"Lisa, is that you?"

Those four words wrung within her head with as much weight as any death knell. She simply laid there, a preverbal deer in the head lights, her frenemy waiting (much to her chagrin) unmolested in the door frame. Cuddy was forced to stifle the urge to scream, though whether it would be out of horror or rage was anyone's best guess. Things were suddenly to screwed up in her head to allow coherent thoughts.

House however, had no such problem. With a heroic heave, he hefted the petite woman off him, stood, bid her a polite goodbye in what could only be classified as a god _awful_ British accent and left with only a tiny nod to the newcomer. She did not miss however, how the newcomers eyes seemed to drift after the man with something akin to curiosity mixed with longing.

Their saving grace was perhaps, the lights. Combined with more regal garb, however disheveled, make-up and darkness, House escaped unscathed leaving her to fend off the monster solo.

Heroic, no?

Cuddy forced herself into a sitting position, casting about desperately for her vest. There was a sigh as the figure poked at something with her toe. A second later the much needed piece of cloth came flying. "Thanks," she muttered lamely, running the dark fabric methodically through her fingers, a distraction till she was able to face the visitor...

_It_ was ready to face her though, as all troublesome folk are wont to do. It is, after all, a known fact that when you least want someone, they want you most. And chances are they'll win out simply because you _don't _want them; the logic is that simple, and there is, after all, no way to refute logic. In a wash of assorted perfumes, it breezed across to her settling down close enough so they sat knee to knee. The woman seized the reeling doctors hands, holding them tightly (and awkwardly (for Cuddy)) to her breast in a sisterly form of endearment. Of course, Cuddy was _dieing_ to forget _any _form of camaraderie with this woman for reasons that were her own It wasn't succeeding. "Oh Lisa," her newest arch rival lied, "If I'd have known I'd never have come in!" _Suuuurrre_...

"Don't worry about it," came the dry, and distinctly embarrassed, response. Cuddy eyed the garment hanging loosely from the tips of her fingers longingly; her self esteem was already taking a hit from being in this situation to begin with; talking half naked was doing nothin' for her.

Her guest flicked her a bawdy wink, eyes slyly appraising her mostly exposed cleavage knowingly, and the doctor suddenly suffered the urge to strangle herself with her shirt. Not that she could reach it anyway. _Sigh_. "He _was_ kinda cute though..."

Heh...Cuddy had the inkling feeling she'd be singing an remarkably different tune had she known the full of it. Maybe the execution song! "What do you want Stacy?" The endocrinologist demanded a bit more gruffly then intended. If the other woman noticed she made no outward sign of taking offense.

Stacy gave her a warm smile, squeezing her hand a little tighter, " I just wanted to check up on you; make sure House hadn't driven you crazy yet." Yet. As in it was going to happen. _That _was a reassuring thought!

Cuddy decided to play along with the game, "I'm fine, really. Better then fine, actually. I've got a boyfriend now." _Damn right_, she added mentally, _and he just __**happens**__ to be your ex._ Mental burn!

"That part I caught," her friend smirked evilly, playfully shaking her hands in that annoying sisterly way she had. An ominous silence sprung up between them after that comment, as thought neither dared to speak lest they be caught by another soul. Or each other. It was obvious that neither completely trusted the other at the moment as demonstrated by Stacy's desperate clutching of Cuddy's hands (so that the woman could not make a mad dash for the door) and Cuddy's perturbed grimace (brought on by the sudden urge to_ make _a mad dash for said door).

It was however, the grimacing captive who finally broke the silence, "Stacy, we both know that's not the reason you stopped by. What's going on?" Despite the rivalry she knew would ensue over who would claim House, Cuddy couldn't help but worry about her college friend. And the circulation in her hands which were rapidly turning purple do to the clasping.

The woman sighed, "Mark left me."

Damn it. "Oh Stacy!" Cuddy wrapped her friend in a compassionate hug, clutching the woman tightly.

It was then Chase happened to walk by. Now, while any other male would have relished the scene (as both women were preternaturally lovely), the Australian could do naught but feel an all consuming fear for his life; the ominous sound of doom stalking down the halls, its mouth dripping with poison and glib remarks that would be his undoing.

"Chase," that was Cuddy, raising her head from the other woman's shoulder to stare at the younger man. "Would you come here?" It was more a demand then a request. 

"No."

The Dean gave him a rebellious frown, rose with an agitated grace that was equally condemning, and grabbed his hand. "Come on, we need some masculine support." Lies. Cuddy wanted someone to distract attention from herself.

And here, dearest readers, was when Cameron stumbled across the scene. Now, in case you are unaware, it is not, in fact, a good thing to walk across a scene where one's "boyfriend" (for lack of a better term) is being drawn into a room by a half naked Dean of Medicine. It's just not. Chase's eye widened in barely concealed terror as they locked with the small woman's. _Doom_! Said the eyes gleefully.

"Cameron, it's not what it looks like!" The Australian snatched his hand back, stuffing it innocently in his pocket, more so she couldn't beat him with it then anything else. Alas! That would not stop the antagonized female! She stormed towards him, hand raised high, and, when he bolted down the hall shouting cries of innocence, she gave chase (heh...get it? ), pausing only for a moment to level a warning glare at the smirking Dean.

Cuddy returned inside her office, shutting the double doors with a profound sense of malevolent satisfaction. And, with a renewed bounce in her fiendish little step, she turned to face her newest arch rival.

Now, dear readers, one should not suppose that simple because House and Cuddy went gallivanting off, the party stopped. To the contrary, now that there was no central office of authority it had fallen into the scheming hands of a Doctor James Wilson, who had taken it upon himself to organize a karaoke tournament, and there are few thing more hilarious then a drunken Foreman bursting out into "I'm to Sexy." Of course, there are also few things less mentally scarring.

And so, amidst the cheers and off key crooning, Wilson allowed himself a brief reprieve, watching with fiendish glee as his masterful schemes wound to a glorious conclusion. House and Cuddy were off doing it, team Organized Chaos was victorious and...

And now he got to kick back and watch the drunken doctors make idiots of themselves. By choice. Oh, the blackmail was endless. He sipped his drink happily, basking in his truimph.

Alas, as is the want of all epic tales, our hero's reprieve was short lived. For into the room marched the devil himself, wearing the guise of what appeared to be a gay vampire.

Before he could react (meaning, run to safety or blame the whole situation on somebody else) House had seized him by the collar. "What is she doing here!?" he demanded irritably, shaking him roughly. Don't ask why he was shaken dear readers, its just something that always done in an interrogation. There must be shaking and thus he was shook.

Wilson stared (at House, not my logic), " Chances are you _probably_ have a reason to be mad and, if I am in fact, responsible, I apologize in advance and hereby blame Foreman for all of it. For arguments sake however, would you be a dear and walk me through your madness...?"

"What is Stacy doing here!?" he amended.

"Stacy's here!?"

The older man sighed, rolling his eyes in a desperate attempt at levity, "Naw, she not here. I just thought it would be fun to terrify us both and ruin my sex with Cuddy! Of course she's here, idiot! Now what did you and your team of morons do!?"

"I dunno."

"Y...you don't know!?" Disbelief, shock, horror; all of those emotions managed to register in the diagnosticians eyes in the matter of a few seconds. House dropped the smaller man in a graceless heap, his tone almost whiny, "I need a drink."

Wilson watched him depart, mind flicking back to his own drink. It had spilled. Sigh.

And on to more pressing matters, Stacy had suddenly decided to show herself. _Irony that_, the oncologist thought to himself, that while House had been desperately chasing the woman, she didn't want him, but now that he was with Cuddy...

Suspicious. In fact he was beginning to the think that this was all some elaborate ploy meant to doom him to hours of make-up plotting. Ugh...

As if on cue, doom showed up, in all it's stiletto clad glory.

Over the deafening sounds of the room, descerning the movement of a single person would have been impossilbe. Yet somehow, _somehow_, he had felt her coming towards him, her heels going clackety-clack against the floor, cold eyes boring into the back of his skull, a messenger of catastrophe. He couldn't see her, but somehting told him she was pissed and, that if he was stupid enought to stay, which, he _wasn't_, she would mutilate, dismember, perforate, maul and a whole lots of other things, him.

So he did the right and honorable thing...

Namely, run like hell.

Wilson took off, weaving madly through the crowd as though he had a purpose. Well, _technically_, if you count avoiding death at your bosses finely manicure hands as a purpose then he already had one. Unfortunately people seemed loath to move and, _more _unfortunately, Cuddy was managing to gain ground beause of it. The slender woman slid through the others like a nasty little snake, moving without pause, cerulean eyes locked onto him with icy reserve. And then she was on him. Damn his enemies and their uncanny abilities to gain ground when all odds were against them!

Hands, long finger and delicate, seized handfuls of his absurdly white coat, keeping him rooted in place. Now, let it be known that Wilson was not in fact, a coward. In fact he was used to fighting with women (having three failed marriages did that) but, despite that, he still feared this particular female. She _trained_ by fighting House. And had survived. Unscathed. Ish. He was loath to admit it, but Cuddy currently terrified him more then anyone else. Not only was she an angry female; at the moment she a _6ft tall _angry female. Horrifying.

"What are you doing?" she said, voice little more than a velvet purr.

He gave her a big cheesy smile, " Well I _thought_ I was avoiding the wrath of a creature spawned in the pits of hell..."

She sighed, "House already used that one."

"Damn. I thought it was so original too. Fine. I was running for dear life."

"That's been used too."

"Cuddy! Are you here to torture me or just berate me with your lame retorts!?"

"Fine, on to business," he quailed as she tightened her grip, "What is _she_ doing here!?"

It occurred to him that people needed to start explaining their threatening demands before stringing him up. It would make the whole process more palatable. "I don't know. For the love of god, I don't know!"

Cuddy sighed, releasing him. "Why do I ask. You never know anything anyway."

"Exactly; remember that and you'll be fine."

It was here, House chose to reappear, drink in hand looking pleasantly tipsy. "Cuddy! Waz up with you?"

"Right now? Right now I'm fighting the single most evil creature in the known universe."

He blinked. "Really? Does zit' hava name?"

"Yup. Yu.R. Ex."

During this rather pointless exchange, the oncologist had taken it upon himself to discern who might have betrayed their cause to the enemy. Not Foreman, he had been to busy getting therapy to cope with the madness. And not Chase...he valued his job way to much to ever attempt such a risky plot. Which only left...

"Oh god..."Wilson smacked himself. Hard "It's Cameron. How could I have missed that! I'm an idiot!"

House nodded happily in agreement, "Not just any idiot. A prize idiot!"

Cuddy looked ready to kill a certain female who was, luckily(but not for Chase who was currently occupying the majority of her attention), not present. There was however a new nurse who doubled as Cameron's' stalker who had come dressed as the afore mentioned woman. The males were forced to keep the Dean away from _her_ as well.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," the epitome of evil muttered, strolling into their little gathering with all fiendish intent. A wave of sheer malevolence undulated off her figure in choking waves making each and every male reel back in terror. Only a very pissed off Dean managed to hold her ground and even she looked pained, so annoying was their new foe. Stacy eyed her favorite cripple fondly, "You look good Greg."

He recovered from the violent assault of pure evilness with enviable grace, "_Suuuure_. And in this alternate dimension I'm sure Cuddy _hates_ assigning clinic duty too."

"Fine, don't believe me," it was here she sighed sorrowfully, "I just came over her to ask you for a dance," and it was _here _Wilson was forced to seize Cuddy's arm lest it fly out to strike certain folks.

House signed, downing the rest of his wine in one gulp, handing the glance to a star struck Lisa. "I guess a dance wouldn't hurt..."

And with _that_ line, everyone backed well away from Cuddy.

Sky: There it was! Everyone sharpen your pitchforks and welcome Stacy to the story!

Stacy: Hi everyone!

Sky: (Stares) W...what are you doing here?

Stacy: You said welcome.

Sky: Nuh-uh! Get out. Now. Only House, Cuddy, me and the occasional pizza guy are welcome here in the disclaimee box...

House: YEAH! All hail random Pizza guy number 471!

Cuddy: (sighs) Please review people, if you love me at all, review. It's all the stops the madness...well...holds it at bay. Ish. Save meh!


	11. Chapter 11: The Plot ThickensAlmost

Sky: AN UPDATE! Thank god!

House: Well, now that you're updating I might as well tell you that Cuddy and I are going off on a lemon hunt.

Sky: You _can't _go lemon hunting. You did that in the disclaimer of Chapter 7. We _don't _do reruns here. We just refuse to update occasionally.

Cuddy: Yes, but then we left you alone. We're giving you a sub this time. No rerun.

House: Yup. So everyone say hi to Saavik! Our sub! Adios Sky!

Sky: ...you've _got_ to kidding me...(looks around) THE SUB ISN'T EVEN HERE YET! (sighs) I do not own House. (looks around) And I'm all alone...again...

Chapter 11: The Plot Thickens...Almost...

"I'm gonna kill her! Kill her dead."

"Cuddy, it's just a dance. They aren't getting married."

The woman sighed, running one hand through her oily hair in surrender. She glared at the soiled appendage in revulsion; the moment this party was over she was going home and taking a _long _shower. She did consider his point however and found it to be true, then nodded dourly, "You're right, he's not you."

"Hey! I have yet to marry Stacy."

She smirked. "Exactly. _Yet_. Give it time, Wilson. Give it time."

Despite the levity of their conversation, her eyes continued to drift after the duo parading about the dance floor. It would have been difficult to miss them anyway considering how bad they looked. House was crippled and tipsy and Stacy...well, Stacy moved with the graze of a drunken ice skater anyway. That thought gave her a certain comfort as she watched, tracing each of their movements carefully, ready to intervene at any moment. At one point, Stacy had the audaciousness to let her hands slip a tad lower then justified; the result had been a nearly explosive Cuddy.

Wilson simply watched the scene unfold with the tiniest hint of a smile dancing around the corners of his mouth, smugly grinning till she finally turned her baleful gaze his way, one trimmed, perfectly kept brow raised in a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. Considering her state of mind at the moment, he guessed it was more the former then the later. The oncologist simply shook his head, "You're smitten."

An aggravated _harrumph_ was aimed in his direction. "With House? Not a chance."

"Uh-huh. So you're just glaring down your best friend for the sport of it?"

"She _took_ him!"

"It's a _dance_, Cuddy."

There was a brief silence as the slender woman fumed, arms crossed menacingly over her chest, one foot tapping impatiently. " I do _not_ love him."

"Except...you do."

At first he feared that she would slap him. Or worse. With Cuddy there was always a worse; but she did not. She just managed to look even more irritated with the world, glaring out menacingly over the dance floor, silent. And obviously brooding. When she finally answered her temperament did not seem much improved. Dear readers, this was not some naive maiden confessing her undying, eternal and whole hearted love for a man. This was Cuddy (for she had a whole class reserved just for her person). And she was pissed about the whole ordeal.

"Yeah I know."

The dance ended, music reaching a soaring, beautiful crescendo. Of course, the couples staggering off weren't half so lovely so the effect was mostly spoiled. Ahem, anyway, the somewhat more then tipsy House staggered off the floor, greatly aided by the grinning bitc...uh...I mean, Stacy. Yeah, _Stacy_. The Dean (who's thoughts about the woman's title were traveling down a much more dubious road) did not miss how closely she was clutching his arm to her side.

Cuddy leaned towards her friend, whispering softly into his ear before the others could get within range, "Do me a favor, Wilson. Take House back to your place."

That drew a smirk. Because Wilson was Wilson, that meant he knew her alternative motive, which was not quiet as selfless as one might have assumed at first glance. "Don't want Stacy following him home, eh?"

"That's not what I meant! I...uh..."

He smiled, draping an arm comfortingly across her shoulders, nodding in a way to knowing for her comfort, " I'll drop him off at your place in the morning."

Whatever retort she had planned was cut mercifully short as they were accosted by the wave of guests. Cuddy oversaw the remainder of the party with a refined diligence, secretly relieved when Wilson left the party, a now most assuredly drunk House in tow.

Unfortunately, had she been paying better attention, she might have noticed the smirk leveled her way.

_The next morning..._

Cuddy reorganized the hapless items of her desk for what had to be the tenth time that morning, fretfully adjusting each item till it was perfectly positioned. Again. Much to the afore mentioned items dismay, this was the goods Deans way of venting some very pent up frustration. She had taken it out on the rubber band (the natural scapegoat of office materials) at first, twirling the thing viciously around her fingers. But then, much to the woman's (and the items, which was not used to such savagery!) dismay, it snapped. Which brought her back to the now.

Satisfied that her desk was , at the moment, perfect, Lisa's gaze flicked towards the door, the newest victims of her ire, narrowed eyes boring, metaphorically speaking of course, as one _obviously_ cannot bore through wood with only ones eyes, through them in hopes of piercing the woman beyond.

Of course, it didn't work. It would have been fun if it hadn't have worked. And of course, there would have been no plot if it didn't work. So obviously, it didn't work. And that annoyed the good Dean. And us, but we really have no say in this.

You see dear readers, Cuddy was preparing for an interview. An interview that would, considering the tone of the story she had an inkling was unfolding, make her life a living hell. And, dear readers, as you well know, knowing ones life is about to go right to the afore mentioned realm is not a fun thing.

Yes, this interview was with none other then Stacy, who had demanded they meet once more the next morning. Had Cuddy been half a shade more evil, she would have denied the request. But she hadn't. So here she was.

Damn it.

Having survived the brunt force of one of her glares, Stacy paraded into the familiar office, smiling in a most deceptive fashion. One could almost think she looked...happy.

"Oh Lisa, I'm so glad you met with me!"

Of course she was. She motioned the lawyer to take a seat, tapping her fingers together in a manner she hoped came off as imposing. It didn't. "What do you want Stacy?"

"Well...you're going to think this sound silly..."

"Stacy, rest assured that I could not think any less of you then I do now."

The other woman's eyebrow rose, not sure whether or not that had been a compliment. It hadn't. "Well...I want to date Greg again..."

Silence. More silence. Which was followed by...more silence.

Cuddy's brain seemed to lock down. Varied emotions flooded every single corner of her mind in record time, each screaming for her attention. So, because it was loath to pay attention to such trivial things as emotions, it just shut down, forcing her to stare stupidly into space. Because that was preferable.

"Cuddy, are you alright?"

"..."

"Lisa...you're not blinking..."

It still was registering upstairs. She had come to her. To ask her. To date her ex?

"...I just," Stacy was continuing on again, sounding more then a tad disturbed by her friends silence. " Thought you might help me convince him. He loves you so much..."

Of _course _he did.

_Meanwhile..._

House's head ached in a most unpleasant way. Not that any ache is pleasant mind you, this just happened to be more unpleasant then normal.

Yes, everyone's favorite diagnostician was quiet hung over and very much alone, left to wander Cuddy's home while she attended to the hospital. Wilson had had him out the door and over at her house in record time (mostly due to the nastiness of his personality now that it was not inhibited.), which meant he had gotten here hours before he could expect her to arrive home.

So, finding that his search for anything even resembling a pain med was very much in vain, he settled down on her couch, clutching head in hands in a desperate attempt to quell the pain. And so he slept.

When he awoke, he felt almost...good. His head didn't hurt, he was refreshed, and hey, it was almost time for Cuddy to get home. Good, he was dieing to see her smiling face.

"HOUSE!"

House slunk back down into the comfort of the couch, suddenly dieing to be anywhere but there. A silly thought but he couldn't help it; staying silent he prayed to whatever god listening that her gaze may have passed over him, leaving him unscathed. Of course, it was in vain, for she most certainly would find him sooner rather then later.

A coat was thrown in his face (along with the shirt she had stolen from him a week ago and refused to return with a fervor he found astounding), "Get dressed."

"Cuddles, that is _not_ how you treat a sick man..."

"If you don't get up," she shot back in a tone far to sugary sweet to be legitimate, "you're going to be a _dead_ man."

Some long dead warning went off in the back of his head, prompting him to rise. Properly cowed (as all men should be in such a situation), he followed her out of the home, watching her in something with something akin to curiosity as she punched numbers into her cell phone.

"Wilson, get your team together. NOW!"

He had the wit not to comment on that one as they climbed into her car, speeding off to god knows where.

Somehow, in retrospect, his migraine no longer seemed so bad.

Sky: This chapter was short, that I realize. I just had to get something out to you all. I know how this stories going to end, I just have to get there! So, uh, the updates may come slower (but faster then this update which was in direct proportion to a snails pace) over the next few weeks, but I'm going to get them out there! I _will_ finish this story.

Saavik: That would be the logical thing to do.

Sky: You're not helping you know. And when did you get here?

Saavik: I was merely stating the truth. And I got here three minutes ago, when your started ranting again.

Sky: (sighs) Please review. I'll love you if you do. And uh...if I get ten reviews I'll uh...I dunno what I'll do...

Saavik: Write them a story? Draw them a picture? Actually update?

Sky: ...shut up. If anyone has a suggestion for what could happen in the next chapter, I'm all ears. TILL NEXT TIME!


	12. Chapter 12: The Devil Himself

Sky: Well, last chapter was a big one. Not because anything happened in the plot; heck, if something _did _happen in the plot, where would I be? WITHOUT A STORY THAT'S WHERE! Anyway, it was big because it was the chapter I did two things for the first time. One, I got 100 reviews and two, I got 10,000 hits! YEAH! (hugs all and any person who has read this story) THANK YOU!

Cuddy: (sniffs) I'm so proud of you!

House: I'm just bored.

Cuddy: On this momentous occasion? Show some civility, you jerk!

House: _Yes_, mistress. Of _course_, mistress. Congratulations, mistress. You officially do not own us.

Sky: I do however own Marcus. That's right. You should all look confused right about here. Now, ONWARD!

* * *

**Chapter 12: The Devil Himself**

There were numerous times in Wilson's life when he had been terrified out of his wits: his wedding, his first job interview, his wedding, his other wedding, that one time with House in Georgia...

But each other those incidents paled in comparison to the cold wave of horror that had washed over him the moment he picked up that phone.

In all his years of knowing Cuddy he had never heard her act quite so irate (except for that other time in Vegas when they'd...never mind). If he had been in doubt about her feelings for House before, which of course, as the leader of Team Organized Chaos, he hadn't been, he most assuredly wasn't now. Granted, he had no idea what she was calling for, but his internal sense of Cuddy-ness told him this problem definitely pertained to House. And since he had been stuck at her home with a hang over the entire morning, he was very much convinced that he was not the cause of the whole situation. The only downside of them now being together was that he would have to listen to her ridiculous rants as well. House was enough! He filled his quota of insanity with him alone! Throw Cuddy into the mix and it was _way _exceeding his limit. There was only so much raving he could take, god dammit!

The door to the cafe (which was, amazingly, the same one they'd met up in a week ago at that ungodly time in the morning, ah, good times) swung wide open, throwing the figures silhouetted in its frame into sharp relief, one of them looking extremely pissed about something or other, the other, looking uncharacteristically humble. One can assign the emotions to their respective characters. With an aura of arrogant indignation swirling about her form, Cuddy slid into the seat across from him. Chase, who had come only because of this very woman's prodding, had the good grace to fetch her a cup of coffee before permitting her to embark on what could have been a tirade of seemingly heroic proportions. Apparently his logic followed the lines of "_if I suck up to her enough, I won't be caught up in the madness._" Wilson remembered being that naive. The poor boy was already doomed. _Doomed_.

"Alright Cuddy," the oncologist began after she had downed a significant amount of her glass, "What is it?"

She sighed, staring at him from over the rim of the mug, almost looking embarrassed for her previous outburst on the phone. _Almost_. "Stacy wants to date House. Again."

The Australian doctor choked on his own drink, though, whether it was because of laughter or shock was anyone's best guess. Either way, Cuddy was less then amused and her glare (which would have stunned a lesser man) shut him up quick.

"And you would suggest what?" He said by means of recovering.

"That we join forces. Unite under a common cause."

House rolled his eyes, finally sliding in next to the woman, " What's she's really saying is that she needs Wilson's devious mind to plot her nemesis' untimely demise."

"Demise? You want to kill her?"

Wilson shook his head, "Murder, _great_. Like I don't need _that_ on my resume."

Cuddy shrugged in a nonchalant manner that could have been called disturbing, "Why does your resume matter? It's not like I can fire you. The only person that would know about it would be the three of us."

"And a court."

"Good point."

"But your idea is sound, I can't have Stacy just come in and destroy all of my, " Chase cleared his throat loudly, "_Our_," he received an approving nod, "good work. We'll help you in anything _less _then murder. Like...indictment. Or...larceny." House seemed to perk up at the last one. After all, he was the master of breaking and entering. Well...stealing the keys and _then_ entering.

The alliance however, was formed. The four figures sat at their booth, heads dipped low as they scribbled plans on the corners of napkins, sipping their steaming cups of coffee. The unfortunate thing about coffee however is that it tends to make one very comfortable, and comfortableness leads to contented thoughts of pleasant things and those images tend to be fatal to devious plans. Especially ones that are malicious in nature.

And so, despite the fact that they were creating plans en' masse, none of them seemed plausible. Or even applicable really.

Cuddy looked up from her latest masterpiece scowling over at her partner. "House! We're supposed to be scheming here!"

"Maybe you missed Evil 101, Cuddles, but a death ray is a perfectly legitimate plan."

"Are you serious?"

Chase shook his head, "We couldn't use that plan anyway, House. Using a death ray constitutes as murder. Which we agreed not to get involved in."

"But it would be so _cool_." All three men nodded, gleefully. A death ray _would_ be cool.

Meanwhile, back in the land of the semi-sane, Cuddy was putting the finishing touches on her own idea which, though significantly less creative then her male counterparts, seemed a good deal more inclined to succeed. "Wilson, why don't you look this one over?" He nodded, taking the flimsy piece of paper from her hand.

"Aw, Cuddy," House was already whining, having caught glimpse of her title, which was lacking the dramatic flair of any of the others, "You can't use a boring scheme to ruin Stacy. She is the _queen _of boring."

Chase rolled his eyes, "Untrue. Have you ever heard Cameron's life story?"

"Touché."

So, while the two discussed the finer points of sleeping with ones eyes open (which was an obvious requirement when listening to _any _long and mind numbingly boring story), Wilson's eyes were widening with unparalleled delight. "Oh, Cuddy, your plan has inspired me."

"You mean we're going to use my plan?"

"No. We're going to use my plan," She rolled her eyes, muttering something remarkably unladylike under her breath. No matter, soon she would see things his way. Like always. "It will simply require something. You wouldn't happen to have any siblings, would you Cuddy?"

She shrugged, "One younger brother."

"The same one that tortured Stacy without mercy all those years in college?"

"The same."

"How old is he?"

Cuddy was beginning to look suspicious, obviously not keen on involving her little brother in this scheme. Especially considering his dubious connection to the one they were plotting against. "Twenty eight."

"_Excellent_," Wilson gushed, rubbing his hands gleefully together. "Everyone listen up. I think I've got a plan."

And it was so crazy that it just might work.

All they needed was a young Mr. Cuddy.

_The next day..._

Dearest readers, if this had been a low budget movie (which of course, it is not. To the contrary, it is a low budget _story_, muahaha!) then at this point the overly dramatic sexy music would have begun. Yes, for through the door came none other then the infamous young man that was the stuff of wet teenage dreams and the recurring figure in many of Stacy's nightmares, his blue eyes scanning the familiar lobby fondly. With a flick of his dark hair (which simultaneously undermined everything his sister stood for), the stranger continued onward, his boots clicking against the tile, long trench coat billowing in a wind that was not really present but added in by the star struck (and male deprived) nurses.

Yes, every creature that was classified as female had commenced drooling, for this man, tall and lithe, was as handsome as his sister was lovely, pale, sharp featured and with striking blue eyes and...(sighs) just imagine a male version of Cuddy alright? Got it? Good. Now that we have an image dear readers, (go re-watch a show involving Cuddy if you don't a have a satisfactory picture in your head) you understand. A generously endowed family the Cuddy's.

So, anyway, while everyone else was drooling (which was, of course, the sane thing to do,) Cameron happened to look up from the mound of paper work loaded upon her pretty little frame by none other then the queen demon herself, only to be blinded by the new comer and all his divine loveliness. Fortunately, Cameron was exposed to gorgeous men on a daily basis and thus was considerably more immune to his charms then her other spinster friends.

"Who is he?" the doctor breathed, momentarily forgetting the woman hovering over her shoulder like a cloud of impending doom. It was not, in fact Cuddy, but rather, Stacy, who was looking less awed by, but more horrified of, the man.

"That," the older woman was muttering, keeping a tight hold of her lovely accomplices arm (so she wouldn't run off of course) while she spoke. As though she could negate the nightmare. Which she couldn't. Which was just as well. "Is the devil himself."

While I'm sure you would like to remain and listen to their conversation dear readers, I am afraid you cannot. We shall, instead, follow the young man into the lions den.

In the poor boy strode, looking very much unperturbed, which shocked the collective body of nurses. It did, however, make them snap out of their momentary swooning. After all, anyone who charged head first into such danger could not be sane and the insane were not quite as appealing as the normal. Which is a shame really.

With a twist of the knob and not a glance at the secretary (who, by the way, didn't even bother to try and stop him) he slid inside.

The first thing that registered was that all the blinds looking outwards had been drawn shut, leaving the room lit only by the few lamps scattered across it. However cozy and romantic it might have seemed to some, it felt a bit...cave-ish. Yes, cave-ish. Don't bother trying to tell him that's not a word dear readers, he doesn't listen. Believe me.

Whatever feelings of distaste he may have felt from the darkness was immediately alleviated the moment his eyes settled upon their prize. Indeed, that one thing brightened the room as effectively as a 70 watt bulb.

And that thing was Cuddy. Lisa. Not him.

"Dah-ling!"

It is to be noted, that in all the overly exuberant scenario's she (being Lisa) had played in her head, she had been a good deal more poised, refined and generally elegant then this. Unfortunately, in all the afore mentioned situations she had forgotten to take into account the unstoppable force that was her younger brother, who had the rare talent of stripping away all those enviable qualities. Especially when they were hers.

The young man, akin to the rest of his impatient gender, vaulted over her perfectly organized (she stifled the urge to quail as he happened to knock over one of her pencil jars...there went another two hours...) desk, saving the few seconds it would have taken to walk around for this more showy display. Which was fine as it allowed him to sweep her up in a bone crushing embrace all the faster. She was somewhat less then enthralled.

After another mind numbingly slow moment, she was released from the death grip and breathing was allowed to resume. Which was, again, just as well as death by hug is not something one wants printed as "cause of death".

Despite the fact that he allowed her air, he did not in fact, release her, opting instead to put her in a most childish head lock. "Ah, Lizzy, I haven't seen you in ages."

There was infinite, almost maternal, patience in her tone, "Marcus..."

"Alright, I haven't seen you in a month. A _month_! That's far to long Liz! You know I can't effectively wreak havoc upon your life when I'm not present _in_ it."

"Yes, a shame that."

"Don't be sarcastic."

"To late."

He paused, trying to think of a suitably snappy response. Apparently however, her comment was to lame to merit such a thing. So he settled simply for peace, "Touché."

Lost in the exuberance of his greeting, poor Marcus had neglected examining the room, preferring to bull rush his equally hapless sister. Had he taken the few moments, he might have seen the three figures languidly reclining in their respective chairs.

When he finally did notice (for, he was not exactly a very observant person. Which is putting it lightly) the effect was profound. The young man stiffed, his eyes slowly moving from House, to Wilson, to Chase, and then back again, trying to make ends meet. He glanced down at his scowling sister, "Liz...who are they...?"

"Yes, Liz, who are we?"

"House, shut up!" Cuddy freed herself with enviable grace, rearranging herself to look more like the staunch figure of medicine she was supposed to be. "Everyone, this is my younger brother Marcus. Marcus, these are my employees..." there was a shared glare aimed her direction from said employees and co-conspirators. "Alright, my friends, House, Wilson, and Chase."

Marcus seemed to be stifling a look of distaste. "That's right; all you psycho's call each other by your last names here." He rolled his eyes. "Pleased to meet you all."

The other three men were to busy exchanging heated glances to catch the last part. Wilson, obviously the ring leader, finally rose, inspecting the youngest Cuddy for any obvious flaws. In return, the inspectee shot a confused look over at his sister, "Liz, Liz your friends are kind of creeping me out..."

It was to late for an escape however for the oncologist had finished his inspection, sending a quick nod Cuddy's direction. "He'll do." And that only served to horrify the poor boy more.

"He'll do for what exactly...!?" He demanded, taking another step towards his sister. Of course, she was sharing the doctors half crazed grin so...probably wasn't the wisest move.

House smirked, coming to drape an arm over his shoulders. The two were around the same height so this wasn't half so awkward as when he did it to Cuddles. "Markey, you've just been marked as bait. Congratulations."

The Dean of Medicine fixed her glare unmoving upon his figure, "House..."

But alas! She was to late! "Don't worry, you'll have fun. Sort of...you don't mind taking orders do you? Of course not, you had Cuddy as a sister. Can't imagine what kind of childhood you had, what with her being such an b..."

"HOUSE!"

Whatever he had originally intended was hastily revised with devilish good humor, "Beautiful young lady." He could almost feel Chase rolling his eyes in the back ground.

Marcus look terrified again, eyes fixed upon House. "Liz...what's going on?"

She sighed, "Wilson explains it better then I do."

"Yes, but you're less crazy."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Fine. Do you remember Stacy, that girl back in college?" The smirk she got told her he most definitely did remember her...and probably some of the awful little bouts they'd had. "Well...she's proving to be a problem in a...relationship of mine."

With an air of offended pride, House stepped forward, drawing the slight woman up in an overly dramatic embrace, "What she's saying is she doesn't want any competition for my lovin'."

"Stop translating what I'm saying."

"Speak clearly. Then I won't have to."

Meanwhile, Marcus looked on the verge of being sick, his pale skin turning a tinge more green as he slumped into the closest chair, unable to avert his eyes from the duo. "Thank you for that little tid bit. As her **brother **I _really_ needed to know that."

"You should be well informed."

"I should be sick."

Chase shook his head, offering him a knowing smile, "Give it time, you will be."

Wilson was the only one able to keep his cool through the whole ordeal, his arms crossed in a very poised manner behind his back as he circled the youngest Cuddy's chair. "House is right, you should be well informed. We have a mission for you. Your sisters happiness may be at stake."

"Cheap shot."

"Yes I know. We need you on this Marcus, but we cannot risk jeopardizing the plan by disclosing it to you. Not before you agree to help us on this." From the desperate look he was shooting his love lorn sister (who had purposely put on a look of utter dejection which House had gleefully joined in on, poor boy!) Wilson knew he had one, so continued on without pause. "We need you to distract Stacy while we make steps towards our final goal."

One eyebrow rose in that same annoying fashion his sister had, "And how would you propose I do that...?

"Dating her of course."

It took everyone present to drown out his scream of shock. Or terror.

_Meanwhile, in area of the hospital that was much more sane_...

"Can we go now..."

"No."

Cameron let out a long overdue sigh, settling back down into her uncomfortable half crouch while trying, without success, to avoid the Brenda's wrathful glare. "Stacy, this is bordering on stalking."

The lawyer smiled wolfishly, "Exactly. Bordering. Now pay attention, I think they're coming out."

Only one person came out of Cuddy's office. Only one; and it was none other then he who was rumored to be related to the good Dean. She could feel Stacy slinking down lower, trying to avoid eye contact.

"Stacy!" He called out, striding over to them without pause.

Her companion groaned silently, "What is it, Marcus?"

He smirked, "I see you remember me."

"You're difficult to forget." Cameron doubted that had the more obvious connotation.

It was here that he seemed to grow a bit hesitant, his face twisting as though the very notion of his next phase was rather distasteful. Or revolting. Whatever the cause, he managed to get it out with suitable poise, "Yes, I was an awful child back then. Completely terrible to you. Perhaps..." he seemed to gag momentarily, "Perhaps you would like to come out to dinner with me? I'm sure I could...replace some of those vile memories with some sinfully good ones." Now he was definitely a tad more green.

Stacy too, looked on the verge of gagging. With years more experience however, she managed to keep the reaction to a minimal, "I would love that. Why don't you pick me up tonight at say...eight?"

"That sounds...good..."

And with that he retreated. Cameron watched him go before turning to her new conspirator. "Stacy, don't you hate him?"

"Yeah."

"Then, why did you agree to date him! Doing that just toys with his feelings and is...is...cruel!"

Stacy raised a brow. "You do realize he was disgusted to?"

"Yeah I know."

"Besides, this is just a ploy. Cuddy's just helping me to win House back. By letting me date her brother, House will get jealous and come back to me!"

Cameron had half a mind to warn her, "I don't think that..."

"Sweety, you'd best stay out of things you don't understand."

But then again...it might be fun to let her find out for herself...

* * *

Sky: YES! A quick and moderately long update! NO MORE COMPLAINTS! Muahaha...

Cuddy: (raises brow) Are you alright?

House: That a stupid question. Look at her! She's in-freaking-sane.

Sky: (laughs maniacally) Oh these next chapters are going to be fun...

House: (Sighs) I'll go calm her down...

Cuddy: (smiles) Thank you. Everyone else, review. It's the good thing to do.

House: That's not how you sell something! REVIEW! Or I beat you with my cane!

Cuddy: Maybe Sky's not the only one who's gone crazy. Till next chapter everyone.


	13. Chapter 13: The Curse Is Broken!

Sky: I HAVE BROKEN ZE CURSE!

Cuddy: (staring) Walk us through it, hun, walk us through it...

Sky: Yes I believe I shall. You see, it has recently come to my attention that I have not updated in such a long while for a reason. And that reason is simple...

House: You're lazy and have the attention span of a dead fruit fly?

Sky: (glares) Perhaps. But also because, in terms of story writing, 13 is a cursed number! Even on my other Zelda story (it lies dead now..._muahahahaha_!) I stopped writing on 13! And now chapter 13 is up on Ducklings! THE CURSE IS BROKEN! (does happy dance)

House: Uh...Sky does not own House. She does however, own Markus. Oh, and she would like to convey her sorrow over this chapters title. It has nothing to do with the actual story. Just a pleased exclamation from the authoress.

Sky: Thaz' right! Now...ONWARD!

**

* * *

****Chapter 13: The Curse Is Broken**

There is a time in every persons life, dear readers, when one can only feel that they have been sentenced to hell for some higher purpose. Actually, we just _hope_ it's for some higher purpose because otherwise we'd just be in hell for the hell of it and that is, in fact, not a pleasant thought. After all, who would want to be there? On second though, don't answer that.

Anyway, there are always those type of moments. And for Marcus, this was that moment.

The poor boy sat alone at the table, fidgeting with the tie his sister had painstaking arranged and rearranged to perfection, nervously glancing around the restaurant as though under each and every table a monster of epic proportions lurked; afraid that, at any given moment someone, would show up and ruin the whole ruse that the conspirators had going. He wasn't _quite _sure _who_ would show up but, damn it, there was someone!

Dear reader, perhaps you are wondering why our temporary (for only House can command our attention for chapters at a time) hero was so on edge. That is an excellent question, and, if I wasn't half so good as I am, I might have part a mind to end the chapter here and call this a cliff hanger. But I wouldn't do that to you dear readers. At least, not yet.

Oh, yes, (ahem) why was he so on edge? It had a simple explanation really. Oh, it wasn't because he was having to date Stacy, if only for his sisters benefit, mind you, or that said date previously had insulted his masculinity by saying he was almost an exact duplicate of said sibling, but because said sibling had shown up with her whole merry band of brigades to _supervise_ him. Him!

Yes, the four had taken to sitting at a table not ten feet from him, separated only by a think veil of plant foliage, menu's that were doubling as shields, and a distinctly more jovial vibe. Of course, it didn't help their cover any when House and Cuddy started yelling about clinic duty again. If their lousy choice of hiding spots hadn't already screwed him over, then chances were, the arguing did. For a moment he could have sworn his imagination mapped in a flashing red light over the table, alerting all to their presence.

"Markus?"

He turned at the sound of his voice, drinking in her appearance. For a moment, he was shocked. She looked impossibly lovely, dark hair pulled back in a loose tail, her slender form accentuated by the crimson of her dresses flowing skirts. He could almost forget their bitter rivalry. Almost. Putting on his best smile and most charming air. "Hello Stacy..."

So yes, dear readers, Markus had up and gone to hell.

_Meanwhile, over at said brigade's table_...

"Cuddy, we're supposed to be looking inconspicuous."

She glowered, treading squarely upon his toes before turning her attention back to the menu. She seemed to be doing that more and more often recently. "I _am_ looking inconspicuous."

House rolled his eyes, putting on his best condescending smile, "Yes, Cuddy, of course Cuddy. You look inconspicuous. On friggin opposite day! No! Good _god _woman! Don't look in their direction! Don't neglect them entirely either! Ack! Haven't you ever stalked someone before!?"

She favored him with a dark glare. "No actually, I haven't."

Wilson looked up from the menu he was eyeing suspiciously, "That's technically not true. There was that one time in college that you stalked H..."

The glare resurfaced, strangling the oncologists retort with brutal efficiency. "You were saying...?"

"I was saying that I was going to shut up."

"That's what I thought you said."

House sniggered something derisive into his glass of wine while the sniggee managed to look properly shamed. Through the whole thing, Chase managed to stay silent, more asleep then anything. He had not wanted to come tonight. After all, they had spent the last few days planning and sleep had been the first necessity to take a hit. In short, the poor doctor hadn't slept in nigh on three days. A rest was in order, so no disturbed him.

Cuddy shook her head, the tousled curls falling prettily around her shoulders as she cast a desperate look in her brothers direction, blue eyes forlorn. A hand slid comfortingly over her own, easing some of her dread, a thing partly responsible for her foul temperament, "C'mon Cuddles, it'll be fine, " she didn't look all convinced, "Look, go get a drink, and when you come back it'll be smooth sailing."

"Really?"

House gave her a wide smile and, suffering a brief pang of sweetness (it grieved him greatly that he ought to fall prey to such a snare), leaned in close to her, clinking and resting his forehead gently against hers. "Honey, I promise," now she smiled. Unable to resist, he let a final parting jab slip, "Besides, when have I _ever_ lied to you?"

She rolled her eyes, rising with a levity he knew wasn't feigned, "I'm gonna go get a drink."

"You didn't answer me!" He was ignored, Cuddy waving off his comment with a tired little flick of the wrist, her step becoming a little lighter the further away from the scene she became, almost like a butterfly shedding it's cocoon.

House didn't need to see Wilson's face to know it was perfectly smug. And for once, he didn't care. He'd made Cuddy smile; that was more important.

Plus, he'd managed to snag her wallet.

And_ that_, was the most important. _Hehehehe..._

_Meanwhile At A Table Where People Are Not Smiling..._

People were not smiling. Which is of course, dear readers, why it is in fact called what it is and not the table of "Smiling Happy People."

If Marcus had thought things were going to be awkward before she got there, before when he had run over every piece of available information to predict their evening, now that she was actually present, things were much worse.

An awkward sense of foreboding hovered over the table like a shroud of silence, keeping both individual's painfully silence. Occasionally one of them would open their mouth as though to speak only to have it clang shut again.

Silence.

Yes, dear readers, _riveting_.

"So, uh, Stacy, uh, how are you?"

She looked taken aback for a moment. They were speaking? How very quaint! "I'm doing good."

More silence. She looked up from her shoes, which had suddenly become fascinating. Never before had someone shown such undivided attention to one's foot ware. "How about you? What did you do after school?"

He shrugged, "Well, after graduating I went and got a degree in law..."

"Oh?" Her interest seemed to have perked up.

"Yeah. But then I decided that sucked and went into directing and writing instead. I'm in between projects at the moment, so I've been working on a free story.

"

"Oh." . Silence. "So...uh...what your book about?"

Another shrug, "Just a little story about my sister, her boyfriend and a few crazy conspiracy theories floating around the hospital. Maybe by the end I'll be able to divulge one of House's major secrets to the world." At her prodding, he continued, "Like, who he's dating. Or possibly marrying sometime in the distant future..."

The waiter arrived to refill their water, forcing him to pause mid story. Surprisingly, somewhere along the line he seemed to have caught Stacy's attention, for she was focused on him and only him. She really did have nice eyes. If you were into the kind that bore right into your soul. She smiled cutely, sipping her new water, much to the waiters chagrin, "So how's it end?"

Now it was his turn to smile, "I'm not sure yet. Perhaps you can help me find the answer?"

Dear readers, while I'm sure you're dieing to hear the rest of the conversation, a more important and monumental event was beginning to unfold at the bar across the way. Namely, the bar House had recently sent Cuddy off to.

Yes, the bar was conveniently located next to the front door which was, as all front doors are want to be, located near the lobby which was precisely where the newest character emerged from, her pretty face flustered from both the cold and a desperate desire to save her co-conspirator.

Of course, such a woman could only be the lovely Alison Cameron, arriving precisely when we don't want her

The petite doctor glanced frantically around the restaurant, completely distressed (somewhere along the course of her quick scan, Chase had slunk down into his seat, secretly terrified he might be discovered, especially if she happened to see Cuddy. He did not, in fact, have any desire to relieve the Halloween Party all over again.) till finally, her gaze settled upon the one that needed to be saved. Namely, Stacy.

"Stacy! Stacy! STA...ACK!"

Markus glanced over towards the screaming woman (which was turning quite a few heads, this was, after all, a rather expensive place and screaming was a thing generally avoiding if one didn't wish to be pointed and/or laughed at), and was instantly horrified, seeing the young lady go down, a form clad in a very expensive dress cutting short her message.

Unfortunately, the point had gotten through, and, hearing her name, Stacy began to turn towards the noise and, what could have been, the end of the conspirators.

And so, Marcus did to most distracting thing he could think of.

Namely, seize the older woman by the shoulders...

And kiss her.

Somewhere, deep inside him...he felt his stomach wretch.

_Meanwhile..._

It really was an excellent thing she had been marching back to their table to punish House (for snagging her wallet, no doubt!), else she might not have caught dear Alison mid shriek. Of course, there had probably been a less violent way to solve the situation. After all, rugby tackles are not the most common way to tell someone to shut up.

Cuddy hastily rearranged her dress, trying not to make a scene. A failed attempt really since the entire restaurant (minus the now preoccupied Stacy and Markus) was already gaping. She gave them a weak smile, grabbed Cameron's arm and marched right out of their, none the worse for the wear.

One by one, each of the males in her party followed suit, till only House was left. He turned, waved to the patrons, held his drink up in salute, spun on his heel and walked out. "And to all a good night!"

It was going to be an..._interesting _night to say the least.

* * *

Sky: There, it is done. Short, but done. Finally. THANK GOD! THE CURSE IS BROKEN!

Cuddy: Still convinced there's a curse, are we?

Sky: I'm convinced because it _is_.

House: Of _course_. Well, in celebration, everyone that reads this chapter should review, voicing their elation that this story can go on curse-less!

Sky: YEAH!

House: Don't cheer for yourself moron.

Sky: Sorry. Anyway, ya'll know the drill. If there's something you think should happen next chapter, or you have an idea that you would like to see in here, please, please, please tell me. I'd love to try and do it for ya! Till next chapter!


	14. Chapter 14: Foreman's A Buzz Kill

Sky: I AM SO TOTALLY NOT DEAD YET!

Cuddy: You do realize that's kind of stating the obvious, right? You wouldn't be updating if you were _dead_.

House: Yeah, but that means diddly squat. She doesn't update when she's _alive_.

Sky: (Proudly) Really? Then how come I, from the darkest, most cobwebby corners of my twisted mind, have been able to produce the next installment in my rapidly un-fraying epic?

House: Uh-huh. How long's it been since you updated last...?

Sky: Uh...no comment...

Cuddy: (pats Sky's arm) S'all right. Sky does not own House or any of the related characters, except for Marcus, who is most definitely hers.

**

* * *

****Chapter 14: Foreman Is A Buzz Kill**

For the second time in this month, Cameron found herself tied to chair. And for the second time this month, Cuddy had found herself tying Cameron _to_ the chair. And for what had to be the one millionth time this month, House found himself resisting the urge to make lewd bondage jokes.

But, alas.

Yes, Cameron had found herself in a rather precarious position yet again. Namely, tied to a chair. She really did need to find another day job...

"I already told you everything I know!" The poor thing shrieked. Of course, it really was a silly thing to do, shrieking, as it had no effect what so ever.

"Cuddy, stop it! She's telling truth!"

House massaged his brows, continuing to nurse his drink while the others continued their latest round of interrogation. They paraded wildly around, making annoyed gestures with their arms to demonstrate their point, screamed more often then not, and were, at all times, horribly boring. Yes dear readers, House had quickly learned that a task, such as interrogating an enemy unit, namely, Cameron, wasn't half as fascinating as cinema portrayed it. There was simply to much screaming. And, as everyone in the medical field (though, it was known to a select few folks of other occupations) knows screaming causes head aches, and head aches in turn cause irritability...

Which he really didn't need any help with. Another scream. He took a swig of his drink.

Yes, dear readers, they were once again holed up in Cuddy's home; for it had, in fact, become something resembling their base of operations. A lovely homestead from which they could crush the rebellion.

Of course, it had also been the closest place available after escapade in the restaurant...

A thing Cuddy was still fuming over and would likely continue fuming over till dooms day did come. Hell, he was still living down that one time in college when he'd accidentally undid her...never mind.

The poor, man rolled his eyes at his bosses newest method of interrogation before hooking his cane around her elbow, drawing her attention momentarily away from poor Cameron. "Cuddy, this isn't a spy movie and, despite those curly raven locks, Cameron's _not_ a terrorist; I'm not sure what you're hoping to find out," he muttered, swirling the contents of his glass tiredly.

"You want me to let her go?" There was a dangerous edge in her voice that made him smirk, her posture becoming more rigid, fists planted securely on hips in her trademark battle pose. The pose he often risked his own hide to see, her face flushed in its ever so fetchingly divine way, hair gently tousled, the whole of her energy translating into one glorious emotion...

Namely, pissed off-ness. And, yes, that _is _an emotion.

He shook his head, leaning back, hands held up in surrender. "Of course not, Cuddles, if you send her off alone she'll just scurry back to Stacy and rat us out. Send her knight and shiny armor with her. That should keep her busy, at least..." he smirked, sending a warm smile in Chase's direction, "for a few hours."

Cameron let out a loud huff, managing a glare from her ridiculous, prone position from across the way. "You do realize that I can hear you right?"

"Yeah, but I figured that unless you wanted Cuddy to go U.S Army on your terrorist ass, you'd go along with it." The Dean flashed him a roguish grin, her gaze remarkably steely as it slid back onto the younger woman.

Cuddy let out a heavy sigh, "Alright, she can go. But Chase," the man stopped untying his girlfriend long enough to catch every bit of conviction, every bit of strength, boring into him with renewed vigor, "You had better watch her." He nodded, leading Cameron out of the room with all haste, obviously not counting on Cuddy's legendary temperament to improve.

Wilson rose from his perch of the couches arm rest, "We can't risk staying here. If Cameron does go rouge again, Stacy will know exactly where to find us."

Cuddy nodded tiredly, dropping down beside House, who favored her with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows in a manner she supposed was an attempt at seduction. If it had been intended to phase her, or arouse her, the tactic failed miserably, and the dean quickly claimed his shoulder as her new head rest, refusing to do anything other then snuggle him. How droll.

"And where would you have us go, Wilson, master of Organized Chaos, king of insane and generally paranoid plots??"

Wilson was back in evil genius mode, suspicious of everything. "A hotel maybe. We can't go to anyone's houses. Cameron knows them all."

Foreman rolled his eyes, "How do we know she's even going to come after us? No _normal_ people lead raids on their employers houses to capture ex-husbands."

"Says the employee who was involved in an elaborate conspiracy to hook up his superiors to the superiors who led an assault on Wilson's apartment."

"Hey man, you started...

"Enough!" The oncologist held his hands up for peace. "We can't be sure she'll come but we can't risk it."

An awkward silence filled the room as they prepared to leave; a silence that followed them until they were driving down the street. Silence. More silence. Then...

"What the hell did you mean WE started it!?"

Cuddy didn't even bother smacking him.

HOUSE

It was not a normal sight, seeing four doctors strolling casually into a hotel lobby well after midnight. Or any time after dusk for that matter. Doctors are remarkably akin to anti-vampires in that respect. In fact, it was discovered late in the 80's that the darkness does, in fact, burn doctors if they are caught in it. Not a well known fact, but a fact none the less...almost...

Yet despite this, here they were, and it was at this time that Cuddy, Dean of Medicine, head anti-vampire (apparently), conspirator slayer, fairest of the divines, and role model of stiletto clad executives around the...well, city, screwed up her courage to...

Well, approach the counter and make a reservation while the men scoped the place out.

The clerk, who had until recently been chatting up her attractive coworker, put on that same artificially pleasant smile everyone in the business was want to have. "Can I help you, miss?"

Cuddy stared over the rims of her cat-eye glasses, looking very much like she'd just stepped out of a really bad Matrix cosplay convention, lips pursed ever so slightly. She forced them up in a tired, albeit slightly annoyed, smile. "Yes, I was just wondering if you had a room available?"

The woman (having now recovered from the shock of being so suddenly assaulted by Cuddy's crazy get-up), glanced down at her computer, "We do have one room available that might work for your," she sent a mischievous glance toward the three males, "Party. Would you like to check out our hunny moon sweet?"

Cuddy raised one artfully sculpted eyebrow in dark suspicion, not entirely certain if she enjoyed the connotation. Still look wary, she slid the woman her credit card. "Yes, that will do fine...I think..."

A moment latter the clerk slid the room key back across to her, giving her a bawdy wink. "Have fun, Miss."

The Dean returned the smile, "I would but, unfortunately they're just friends. Gay and all that."

A wash of disappointment crossed the poor things face, "Aw, the cute ones always are. Which ones?"

"Uh...which ones do you think are cute?"

"The black guy and the baby faced ones are supper adorable..."

Cuddy's smirk widened; this was revenge for those two ruining her life for the past few weeks, "Yup, those are the two. Those guys are gayer then the day is long. So sorry."

Still feeling smug, she beat a hasty retreat, closing in on the afore mentioned members of her party.

House eyed her suspiciously, "What was that all about?"

One brow raised, amusedly, "Suddenly you're interested in my conversations?"

"No, but I really wish people would stop answering my questions with questions..."

"House," she smiled, wrapping her arm playfully around his waist, "There's a simple solution to your problem. Stop asking me invasive questions."

"It wasn't invasive..."

She rolled her eyes, stepping into the waiting elevator. Silence. More silence. Then...

"I still say it wasn't invasive.

Sigh.

HOUSE

She was very much used to staying up late, but considering all that had happened, Cuddy was exhausted, and by the time they had emerged into the suite, her body was threatening to collapse. She fought to stifle her yawn but the thing came anyway, fighting through her defenses. House touched her arm.

"Why don't you get some rest Cuddy?"

Surprisingly, to everyone else in the room, who suspected she would back hand him for even making such a suggestion, she did not protest, bidding each of them a quick goodnight before sliding into the bedroom, House gently closing the door behind her. When he was sure she was going to stay in there he crossed to his waiting friends, face devoid of any sighs of mirth.

"Guys, I'm going to have to ask you a favor..."

HOUSE

"Remind, real quick, _**how did we get stuck with this again!**_?"

"Well, it's process of elimination really. Cuddy's sleeping and House can't go, so that leaves..."

"I still say this sucks."

Indeed, the situation did suck. For our intrepid heroes, being Wilson and Foreman, lurked no where other then outside the den of the beast, completely defenseless save for the heroic foliage that had been noble enough to shield them.

Or, in laymen's terms, they were hiding in a bush outside Stacy's house. Somehow it wasn't all that surprising. Between the conspiracies, chases and assaults, Wilson knew a good break in was due up. Unfortunately, he was the one committing it.

"How does he expect us to do this again?"

"I don't know. You're his employee; doesn't he have you break into homes all the time?"

"Well...yeah, but...he always has the key..."

"If you have the key you're not breaking in!"

"Actually..."

"Forget it. Since we don't have the key, what should we do?"

"Look for an open window?"

"What...why...who...who leaves a window open after _MIDNIGHT_!?"

"Who breaks into someone's house to see whether or not they're plotting and/or seducing your friends girlfriends brother!?"

"..."

"Wilson?"

"I say we check the kitchen."

Fortunately, the kitchen window was open and, after much struggling, the two flopped in the room.

"Alright, now all we've got to do is find..."

Someone turned on the rooms lights. "Well, well, well; what have we here?"

* * *

Sky:(Amazed) HOLY CRAP! I DID IT! Chapter fourteen is done! Hopefully it was good enough to make up for my god awful update speed and uh...the cheesiness of last chapter...and...and...I UPDATED SO HOUSE HAS TO EAT HIS SHOE! ((For those of you that don't get the joke, or think that it's entirely random, see story "_Politically Incorrect_")) May I suggest one made of natural leathers?

House: I'm not actually gonna eat my shoe.

Cuddy: You are so going to eat your shoe. I'm pretty sure Sky and I can take you, cripple.

Sky: YEAH! And worse comes to worse we can call the readers in!

House: There will be no shoe eatery! I refuse!

Sky: Then we shall have to use force. Readers, if you would like to help Cuddy and I make House eat his shoe, review and say as much. Of course, reviews will also get you the next chapter but...shoe eating is more important! (Smiles) So review!


	15. Chapter 15: She's A Friggin' Ninja, Dude

Sky: (Sneaks into the room) Readers….readers…are you still there…? (See's readers) AH CRAP!

Cuddy: See! I told you at least one would still be out there. Even though you were a lazy bum and didn't update for an even longer amount of time then before…

Sky: Yeah…unfortunately since they're still there House gets to…

House: REVENGE FOR ALL YOUR WRONGED READERS! (House bitch slaps Sky) There. Readers, you have been avenged.

Sky: …Do that. Now that all you good readers out there have been avenged, I present to you the chapter we all knew was likely never coming. But it's here. Which is surprising…or terrifying. Either way this one was remarkably fun to write once I actually started it. One should keep in mind however that it is remarkably more goofy and completely silly then most of the other chapters. Surprising, no? But it was fun to do and I hope you enjoy this. Wilson was oodles of fun to write.

Cuddy: In case you guys forgot during her record setting hiatus, Sky still does not own House.

* * *

**Chapter 15: She's A Friggin' Ninja, Dude!**

Dear readers, Foreman was bored.

And not the good kind of bored, the kind that makes you fall asleep in front of the TV, or the "seek out your favorite junk food" bored, but the "gouge your eyes out with a pencil just to give yourself something to do" bored.

One might wonder, what could provoke such a drastic reaction?

The answer was simple.

They were being tortured. Again.

Yes, _again_. If Foreman's life had been a novel he would have sworn that the author was being inexcusably lazy, purposefully setting the characters up to get wrangled into similar situations, again and again. And again.

But alas, Foreman's life was not a story.

It just sucked evidently. And so, once more strapped to a chair, he turned his attention back to those holding him, and, figuratively, prepared to face the music. Unfortunately, the were not focusing on him at the moment.

"Now, Wilson, do you have anything you want to tell me?"

The man hacked and wheezed in response, obviously choking on the fumes of whatever Stacy had been cruel enough to stick under his nose. One could only assume it was some kind of truth drug. For a brief moment, both Marcus and Chase had sported both worried and sympathetic looks, but they had had the common sense to dispense with such emotions, lest their female companions turn on them as well. After a moment, Stacy removed the mystery drug and the oncologists hacking died down. When he next spoke however, he sounded much more hazy, less cognitive of what he was saying.

Wilson glared at the lawyer….well, he was having a rather hard time focusing, so perhaps he wasn't glaring AT her, but it was aimed somewhere in her vicinity, "You do realize that even if you get House, which I doubt you will, Cuddy's gonna smack you down, right?"

She arched a brow. "Oh, and how do you figure that?"

He puffed up his chest proudly, like a boisterous child speaking fondly of their favorite parent rather then an employee defending their boss. "Cause' Cuddy's a freaking ninja! No mortal could waltz around in those shoes and live to tell the tale!"

"Well, what if I'm a pirate?"

A hush descended upon the room, waiting in rapt anticipation for Wilson's retort.

The man's brow furrowed , sweat beading across its surface. He was still having a hell of a time clearing his head and could thus think of nothing.

Finally, Foreman gave voice to the one thought on everyone's mind.

"Yeah, Cuddy's screwed."

**H/O/U/S/E**

Cuddy was in fact, not screwed. She had, however, woken up. Alone. And that irritated her.

Yes, it may seem irrational, but Cuddy had been under the fool notion that perhaps she and House were, in fact, a couple. And couples shared a bed. Which House was not in. Which meant she had slept alone.

Cuddy didn't really like being alone.

So, with an air of righteous indignation reserved only for House and his screw ups, Cuddy emerged from the suites bedroom. And there, on the sofa, was the target of her ire, sipping whiskey contentedly. Not even shooting it like a man!

Suppressing the anger she was currently plagued with, she decided to do the "woman thing", and act perfectly content. With feigned civility, she crawled up on the couch, sidling up against him with a smile and whispered an oh so clever, "Hey."

"Oh, hey Cuddles!" he half turned to give her a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. "From the way you were snoring, I take it you slept well?"

She glared but didn't snap off a retort of her own. It was to early, she'd had to little sleep and she really didn't want to fight. Unless it was on a topic of her choosing. "I was a little lonely but.." When he didn't reply, she changed the topic. "How long was I out?"

"Three hours."

"I was hoping you would have joined me."

He turned again, smiling in a way that was totally un-sarcastic, "I was going to but…you just look so peaceful…You really are pretty when you're sleeping…"

That abated her anger almost entirely. "House…"

"You know, when your mouth isn't screwing it up."

"I could have done without the comment."

"Wouldn't have been me."

She smiled, reaching out to take his hand. Her own fit nicely in his. "I know." With a little grin, the dean scrambled onto his lap, effectively straddling him. "I'm still feeling a bit lonely you know," the husky whisper slipped easily into he ear as she began coyly nibbling the lobe.

Now, at any other time dear readers, this would have been his wet dream, but we must remember, Cuddy HAD been asleep for the last three hours and…

In the available time he'd managed to down a rather sizable portion of the mini bar.

In short, he was quite drunk and, despite the fact that his very favorite dean was coming onto him so brazenly, felt in desperate need of some soul baring. Much to Cuddy's chagrin since there were obviously other things _she'd_ rather be baring.

"Cuddy," She mumbled a semi-audible response. "I love you."

The poor woman froze, eyes open wide in shock. "Who are you and what have you done with my House?"

"You're straddling him. And he does love you very much. As cliché as it sounds."

"House, are you even sober?"

"Have you checked the mini bar?"

"No…"

He beamed. "Then yes, I am completely sober."

Cuddy shook her head in amusement, placing a quick kiss on his lips before sliding off his lap to safer terrain. An awkward silence passed between them.

"You know," it was House again, seeming less sure of himself, "A drunk mans words are a sober mans thoughts."

"I'm not sure that's how it goes…"

He shrugged, "It's the jist of it."

They sat once more in silence, House downing the rest of his drink, she still spellbound. Or terrified. Or perhaps thrilled….

Who knows, but either way she was silent, her mouth agape. With a grace born of the desperate urge to salvage some of her damaged pride, she artfully switched the topics.

"Where are Wilson and Foreman?"

He shrugged, "Sent them off to Stacy's when you went to bed."

"So they've been gone. For three hours? At Stacy's?"

He focused hard. "…Yup."

She let out a ragged sigh. Great, they'd most likely gotten themselves caught and were in major amounts of trouble. Rising to her feet, she grabbed her purse off the coffee table. "Look, I'm going to go get them. I'll meet you at the hospital alright?"

He arched a brow in the same way she often did, "So you want to separate?"

"Well, yeah…..it's not like you can go to…"

"No way, babe. I've seen the horror movies, folks separate and someone. Always. Dies! And since you're breastier and leggier, I'm guessing that someone would be ME!"

She smiled, glad to be back on familiar ground. She bent and kissed him. "See you at the hospital, House."

"HEY!" he yelled towards her departing form without avail. "Oh, sure! Leave the expendable love interest by himself!"

**H/O/U/S/E**

Wilson did not like to consider himself as the kind of person who got irrationally scared. For instance, he was not afraid of spiders, or lawyers, or Cuddy's vast array of possibly deadly foot wear. Those things might scare the majority of the populace but not he, not the wise, all powerful Dr. Wilson. There was, however, one things that terrified him beyond all reason… .

Such as the dark.

Yes, James Wilson was afraid of the dark and all the blackness it brought with it. After all, a whole cadre of nasty beasties could be hiding deep within it…

Such as an army of zombies.

And James Wilson has was not going to be Zombie Chow! However, if said army chose to emerge now…

Damn Stacy! Tying him to a chair, drugging him, and leaving him to her army of zombies!

No, he would not be scared! What he needed was human contact to reassure him that his fears were totally unfounded. But, since Stacy and her little gang had taken off over half an hour ago, the only person around was Foreman, and the oncologist was not so certain that he was human. After all, he never smiled. Or did anything even semi helpful. But alas! Wilson did need a vent for his fears and decided that some contact was better then none. "Foreman? You're not afraid of the dark are you?"

From behind him, he heard the man sigh. "No, I'm not."

"Oh, good. Cause, you know, I'm not either."

There was silence.

"Nope, I am _so _not afraid that some acid spewing aliens are coming."

"That's great Wilson."

"Or that a legion of zombies might come and devour us all…"

"Okay…?"

"With their Licker allies who will feed on our flesh and become Super Lickers…"

"Wilson."

"I AM NOT SCARED MAN!"

Foreman could only roll his eyes and listen in mild amusement as the oncologist muttered something to himself.

"I think someone's watched Resident Evil on to many times."

Or it could have been the drugs.

**_Meanwhile, a short distance away…_**

Cuddy was sneaking across the lawn with surprising agility and stealth. As we know dear readers, Miss Cuddy is an excellent sneaker. And interrogator. And lock picker. And other things doctors usually frown upon…er. One has to be if they're to keep an eye a lunatic like House. Or the rest of her staff for that matter…

Regardless of where or how (yes, a _huge_ veil of mystery shrouds that question. After all, there are so many doctors who received their Masters in Breaking and Entering. ) she acquired said skills, she was good with them.

And by good, dear readers, I mean better then Wilson and Foreman…

Which on it's own may not be an extremely good thing.

With far greater ease then the men, the Dean of medicine lifted herself through the window, crawled off the counter, and stalked towards the living room, stealthy like. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room (and, dear readers, it was horror movie dark) she could clearly make out the figures of Wilson and Foreman. Reaching out a hand she gently touched what she assumed was one of their shoulders, preying the softness of the touch would encourage silence.

The reaction she got however, was far from stealthy.

"EEEEK!" Shrieked whichever man she had been unfortunate enough to prod. Said man slapped her hand away with surprisingly velocity and insistence. In fact, the manliness of the smack almost offset the girlyness of the scream. "Get away from me Licker! You can't have my brain! It's MIIINNNNNE!"

"Wilson," She hissed, "Shut up! It's me!!"

"Conscience?"

"No, idiot, Cuddy!"

He shrugged as well as a person tied to a chair is able. "Aw, well, both your names start with "C's."

"Whatever, I came here to rescue you guys."

"Oh, great. We get captured by a girl and then rescued by one!"

"Hey!" Cuddy was touched that Wilson would jump so quickly to her defense. "Cuddy's not a girl!" her affections were tempered a bit. "She's a ninja. How else did she make it in here undetected?"

"Actually, I think everyone left…"

"Trying to defend you here , Cuddy."

"Sorry."

A moment passed. "Look guys, House is already at the hospital. We don't know where Stacy is so, you should go there."

Foremen favored her with a dark glare. "So….you want me to go there….With Wilson?" It was remarkably unfortuitous that at the very moment Foreman was making his point about Wilson's sanity, said doctor begin stalking around the room in what he referred to as a "routine zombie inspection."

"Okay, so that wasn't exactly well timed. You have a problem going with Wilson?"

He shrugged, "No, just another ride on the Crazy-Go-Round."

The woman gave him a knowing grin.

When the boys were out and down the road Cuddy continued her search.

Perhaps it was Cruel irony or merely karmic justice, but the moment the unwitting dean rounded the hall corner, she was ninja tackled by our dear Cameron, who had been waiting for neigh on 15 minutes for this chance.

"Chase, help me!" The smaller woman commanded.

With a sigh he stepped in and soon, the two were heading to the hospital, hostage in tow.

**H/O/U/S/E **

"Do you think we should have stayed and helped her search the place?" This came from Foreman, who was suffering from a pang of last minute guilt. Cuddy had been kind enough to come save them and they'd abandoned her at the first chance. Or perhaps he was just trying to justify his actions. After all, he was, at the moment, making his peace with god.

Something he would not have needed to do had somone OTHER then Wilson had been driving. But alas, the still slightly stoned oncologist had demanded the wheel and now poor Foreman was paying for it. He was sure that at any given moment they would crash and burst into flames.

"For zombies?!"

"No! Incase Stacy left someone there to exact her horrible revenge on her friend turned arch-nemesis."

"Nemesis is the name of a zombie."

"Seriously man, what did Stacy give you?"

The oncologist coughed uncomfortably. "Anyway, I wouldn't worry about it. Cuddy's a super ninja! And ninja's are invincible….except against zombies."

"What's with you and zombies recently?"

"THEY'RE EVERYWHERE MAN! And you know what, only Milla can stop em'. I don't know about you man, but I ain't seen no Milla round these parts!"

Foreman favored his friend with a glance that was either sympathetic or horror stricken.

"Seriously Wilson, put your copy of Resident Evil DOWN."

**H/O/U/S/E**

Now dear readers, at the same moment Foreman and Wilson were discussing zombie legions, and Cuddy was being ninja tackled, House was strolling casually into Cuddy's office. Whistling a cheerful tune, he flicked on the lights.

And stifled a scream.

And there dear readers, sat the figure we were all expecting ( those of you out there that are still hopeful this story may yet have a surprising plot twist can spend the next few chapters nursing your shattered hopes and dreams)…

Namely Stacy.

Yes, her fingers steepled like a villain oodles more imposing then she, she favored our not so heroic hero with a smug, victorious grin. "Ah House, you've walked right into my trap…"

"…" The man looked more irritated then terror stricken.

"House?"

"DAMN IT! I TOLD CUDDY WE SHOULDN'T HAVE SEPARATED!"

* * *

Sky: WHOOOO! It's done! At long last! Victory dance!

House: Yeah, whatever. You think you threw enough Resident Evil jokes in there?

Sky: Resident Evil has stolen my soul.

Cuddy: (looking slightly disturbed) Uh…anyway. Why don't you guys review? Meanwhile, we're gonna take our soulless friend here…

Sky: And it was the best choice I ever made….

Cuddy: And try to get her started on the next chapter.

Sky: I would say that I'll try to update soon but…that would obviously be a lie. So, instead, I will try to update before zombies take over the planet. Oh, and if there is something you would like to see in the next chapter….

House: How about an original joke!?

Sky: …. tell me so I can try and fit it in! Till next time dear readers and have a great day!


	16. Chapter 16: The Sweet Taste of Betrayal

Cuddy: Well, we're back. And it hasn't been three or four months.

Sky: And I have my soul back! HUZZAH!

House: And I don't care about either of those things! Though, it was a huge pain getting Sky's soul back…

Sky: Turns out the producers of Resident Evil are zombies too….

House: True dat'.

Cuddy: You loons are getting off topic. To sum up, Sky is no longer a soulless wretch, and you guys are getting your next chapter way ahead of schedule! Remember to read and review!

* * *

**Chapter 16: The Sweet Taste of Betrayal**

Marcus was waiting near the hospital entrance with a small smile on his face. It was all coming together. All this madness would soon be over. And it was a good thing too. He'd only been in town a few days and already his sister and her merry band of loony toons were taking a toll upon his sanity …

He let out a maniacal laugh. Oh, but it would be worth it. If getting his most beloved sis her happy meant kissing his sanity goodbye, he would gladly do it a thousand times over. And his own plan to ensure this, was coming together nicely.

You see dear readers, somewhere along the line, Marcus had decided the best way to help his sister was to allow certain events to happen without his intervention. After all, that Wilson guy was to much of loon to stop someone as sinister and fiendishly clever as Stacy.

"She's here."

The voice of everyone's favorite Australian doctor filled the air.

"Is she alright?"

Chase chuckled, "She's doing as well someone who's just been ninja tackled can do. I put her in House's office, just like you asked. Cam's taking to watching her however."

"Not an unforeseen complication," the younger Cuddy gave the doctor a hard look. "Do you have what it takes to deal with your lovely little lady?"

"Always. And you?"

Marcus smirked and grasped his friends hand in a firm handshake, "I've always got what it takes when it comes to Liz's happiness."

And with that, they retreated back into the hospital, each with their own mission.

Yes, it truly was all going according to plan.

**H/O/U/S/E**

_"Running, Running, _

_As fast as we can_

_Do you think we'll make it? (Do you think we'll make it?)"_

"Is this song about the zombie invasion?"

"Wilson, this is Gwen Stefani!"

The oncologist shrugged cheerfully, "She could be a very well educated pop star."

Ever since Stacy had given him that drug he'd been making comments like that. Amazingly though, they all pertained to the same things. Namely, Cuddy's ninja status or a legion of zombies overtaking them. He had toned down however, over the course of their drive.

They were nearing the hospital now. Wilson pulled off to the side of the road. The diagnostician in the passenger seat was worried but realized Wilson was likely just going back into evil genius mode.

Turned out he was right. "What's wrong, Wilson?"

"I believe our story is coming to it grand finale. Forces far greater then us are at work now Foreman, and they are driving us to an inevitable conclusion…"

"So what should we do?"

He was nodding slowly as though to the thoughts in his own dysfunctional mind. " I have no clue, but I sense we're going to need some jello…"

"But we told Cuddy we would go and help House…"

"I sense this jello will help House."

The two shared a conspiritory grin, "Well…if you sense we need it…"

And so, with renewed zeal, the duo headed off on an epic quest of their own. A quest so precarious no other had attempted it…

Namely, to find a store that sold jello at 4 A.M.

**H/O/U/S/E**

"You don't seem overly surprised…."

House let out an aggravated huff as a response. Amazingly however, it didn't seem to be aimed at her. "Nope. I told her! I told her I'd get caught. But did she listen? Noooo! Damn that woman and her heaving cleavage!" He settled down crankily into one of the available chairs, arms crossed across his chest disapprovingly.

Through it all Stacy looked beyond confused. She had captured him, right? Wasn't he supposed to be more…terrified? She knew how to handle terror; this was just….disturbing…

"Stace? You in here?"

For the first time since forever, Stacy found herself grateful for the young Cuddy's presence. "Oh, thank god! Marcus!" She fought the urge to throw her arms around him in sheer relief. Instead, she opted for a friendly half hug; considering the lengths they usually went to avoid physical contact with each other, the younger man tensed in understandable shock, obviously not certain if she intended it to be a romantic gesture or if it meant she was going to hit him.

Either way, he looked horrified. "You alright there, Stace?"

"Just fine. Greg's just acting a little….weird."

"Which is different from normal in what way?"

She gave him a surprisingly warm grin. "Could you just watch him for me for a few minutes? I forgot something in my car and…"

"Don't spare it a second though, hun."

Marcus was polite enough to stay smiling as his arch-nemesis turned girlfriend (ish) person vacated the office. Flicking down one of the blinds, he checked to make sure she had actually out of range before making his true intentions known.

"House!"

"Marcus!"

The diagnostician received a glare for his efforts at levity. "Alright fine, what do you want to tell me?"

"I'm going to engineer an escape for you."

"Wow, my life went from horror movie to spy movie in five minutes." Another glare. "Stop glaring, punk! I'm a sarcastic jerk, haven't you learned that yet?"

"I had the misfortune of witnessing all your lunacy first hand."

Houses interest in this conversation was rapidly failing. As was the alcohol he had so erroneously ingested. As a result, his pleasant buzz was rapidly on its way to full blown hangover status, making him more irritable then ever. "Mind telling me how you're going to distract the Queen Bitch of the Universe?"

Marcus grinned in a way that left very little to the imagination. "I have my ways. You just try to stay out of sight."

"Where's Lisa?"

"Chase and I had her brought here. Cameron's keeping an eye on her for Stacy but…once you're in the clear I'll signal Chase to go get her. She'll come down, unlock the front doors and you two can make a clean getaway."

"Sounds simple enough. One question?"

"And what's that?"

"Wouldn't it have been easier to have just kept Stacy from getting us in the first place!?"

The younger man threw his head back in a condescending laugh. This time it was not House on the receiving end of the glare. Marcus brushed away an imaginary tear if laughter. "Ah, Mr. House, that would be lazy plotting!"

"You are a strange little man."

"I'm a Cuddy."

"Touché."

There was a small knock on the door signaling Stacy's return. "Get ready, House." The doctor gave him a nod to signal his understanding.

Right on time, Stacy breezed into the room, perhaps not with the same ethereal grace Cuddy had about her, but with a more predatory ease, a pair of handcuffs in….well, in hand.

"Be strong, House. You can live through Stacy."

The diagnostician chuckled. "Please, if I can live through this hangover, I can definitely survive Stacy."

"Really?" He looked shocked. "You'd compare her to a hangover? I would have thought it'd be more like the incessant, mind numbing, gut wrenching, and never ending pain in your leg…"

"Sure. That too."

Somewhere in the midst of this conversation, a suspicious look had evolved across the planes of Stacy's face. "What are you boys talking about?"

Marcus smirked, "Just the glory that is you, my pet."

"You call her pet!?"

"Shaddup."

Stacy smiled victoriously. It felt good to have someone else tell Greg that for once. "So, PET, what are the handcuffs for?"

She shrugged, "I'm trying them out. Everyone keeps escaping from rope so I figured handcuffs had to be a step up."

"The front doors are still locked right?" She nodded, still suspicious.

He stepped closer, still smiling, wrapping an arm around her dainty waist. "Then how bout we kick House out into the lobby and try them out?"

She looked shocked. Then horrified….then, rather intrigued. After all, why not? "Alrighty. " She may not like his personality overly much, but he was a pretty face. And House would be pining for Lisa for a long time anyway.

"House, lobby. Now!"

The doctor being addressed in so callous a manner rose with over exaggerated distress and did as told, sliding out of the danger zone and to apparent safety.

Marcus allowed himself a small smile. If the idiot managed to stay hidden and Chase came through for them, their plan might succeed.

Feeling a good deal more confident then before, he tapped the button on his phone to send Chase the signal.

It was time to bust Cuddy out, ninja style.

Until then, all he had to do was keep Stacy occupied….

Oh joy.

**H/O/U/S/E**

Cuddy's head was aching.

And so were her ribs. Two things that could be attributed to Cameron's oh-so-gracious ninja tackle. With a tiny moan, she managed to ease herself up into a sitting position.

From what she could gather, she was in House's office, in the chair nearest the door. No one else was in the room….it was all clear…

Not that she was going anywhere.

No, however much Cuddy may have liked to make an elaborate getaway and search for her much beloved, she wasn't going to be doing so anytime soon.

You see, dear readers, one of the side affects of being ninja tackled/beat down with such viciousness is blurred vision. So whilst dearest Lisa was attempting to sit up straight, the rest of the world was swaying and swimming with ominous intent. Damn the rest of the world!

And so she could only sit there.

Sigh.

"Nice to see you up again. For a second there I was afraid I might have killed you."

Cuddy managed to lift her groggy head enough to level a suitable glare at the newcomer.

It didn't phase dear Cameron, who drug a chair over to sit across from the still prone Dean of Medicine. Cuddy just continued glaring. If that little girl though she could ninja tackle her and then make pleasant conversation…she had another thing coming. Yes, she was in for the silent treatment of her life! Muaha!

"Cuddy?" No response. "Cuddy?" Still no response. "Come on, Cuddy, be a mature adult!" Said adult in question, stuck her tongue out at the younger doctor. "Listen. I'm sorry for tackling you."

"No one ever taught you how to lie did they?"

"Okay, fine. I may have found it a little enjoyable. And you tackled me first anyway!"

Cuddy scoffed irritably, "Why does the traitor speak to me?"

What happened next terrified her beyond all words. Cameron leaned forward and seized her hands in a girlishly affectionate manner, clutching them endearingly to her chest. And those eyes. Cuddy couldn't bear to meet those soulful, apologetic, helpless eyes. So full of trust. So full of hope. Almost like a puppies eyes….

Or a cows…

"Lisa, look at me, I have to say something important."

"I can't. Your helpless cow eyes will get me if I do…"

"Cuddy," the doctor in question heaved an overly dramatic sigh of exasperation before finally forcing herself to look at the younger woman. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tired to help Stacy, or have gotten involved in your and House's relationship. It was immature and selfish of me."

A part of her wanted to ask what had forced this sudden confession, but dearest Cuddy was to busy trying to fend off the sheer despair in Cameron's eyes. "Apology excepted if you just aim your dewy eyes elsewhere!"

Unfortunately, Cameron was in rant mode and wasn't able to avert her dewy eyes. "I didn't think he loved you, but….I know that he does now. And how could I stand in the way of true love…"

"Cameron, the eyes!"

"I've felt absolutely wretched! I want you two to be together. I want what's best for him. He's so happy with you. I just hope you can forgive me!" How the woman was able to say all that in a matter of seconds without taking a second breath was a thing that would ever puzzle Cuddy.

"You're forgiven, Cam! You're forgiven!" She tried to avert her eyes once more with no success. Alas! There was no escaping one of Allison Cameron's love-lorn stares!

She sniffled, "You mean that?" The Dean could only offer an awkward nod as confirmation. "So we can be friends?"

"If you stop looking at me like that you can have my first born child! Just look away, damn it!"

"Oh, goody!"

And before the good Dean could object, she was being swept up into one of Cameron's overly exuberant embraces. It wasn't entirely unpleasant. Until she needed to breath.

Then it wasn't quite so enjoyable.

Finally the young woman pulled away. "You know, Chase is going to be coming here to get you soon. He thinks I don't know but…he's a really awful liar…"

Cuddy finally felt a genuine smile creep across her face for the first time today. "Only to you, Cam. One of the unfortunate side effects of being in love I'm afraid."

The smile proved contagious and swiftly spread to the others face, "Unfortunately. But…would you mind if we pretended to….you know…"

"Still be bitter enemies? Absolutely. What did you have in mind?"

And, so, instead of seeing two newly formed friends when Chase arrived to rescue Cuddy, which is what ought to have been, it looked very much like she'd been ninja tackled. Again.

**H/O/U/S/E**

"Stacy! What are you doing!?"

"The same thing you were gonna do to me, traitor!"

And, alas, as swiftly as that, Marcus' plan was unraveling. After all, it's a scientifically proven fact that it's an extremely difficult feat to chase someone down when you're handcuffed to a remarkably heavy desk.

Stacy fled the office with admirable dexterity. And lo! There, hiding behind a piece of foliage, was House. Dear readers, if you feel the urge to smack him for his lack of foresight, I will not be the one to stop you. No, not at all.

He brandished the shrub as though it were some sort of deranged blade. "Back beast! Or you shall feel the prickly wrath of artificial…tree…branches…?"

"Imposing."

He glared. "Oh, you and your sarcasm…"

It was then Stacy launched herself through his flimsy barrier and latched onto his waist.

And it was then the elevator doors slid open and there, wreathed in divine, heavenly light, was his very own angel.

Lisa Cuddy stepped out of the machines confines, a confident smirk playing on her fair features.

"Get away from him, you bitch."

* * *

Sky: Whoo! Aliens reference!

House: (Proudly) As always, my Cuddles is gonna kick some serious lawyer butt.

Cuddy: You better belief it baby! I am the anti-lawyer, super ninja, zombie slayer!

Sky: And…even more important….NEXT CHAPTER IS THE LAST ONE! …Besides the epilogue…

Cuddy: So it's the second to last chapter…

Sky: No. It's the last chapter.

House: ….? Beside the epilogue?

Sky: Yes! CELEBRATION CHAMPAGNE FOR ALL MY BELOVED REVIEWERS! (Pours out Celebration Champagne with a grand flourish)

Cuddy: (rolls eyes) Don't bother with her logic. Review everyone! Sky will give you Celebration Champagne if you do evidently….


End file.
